


ACOMAF - Rhysand's Perspective - Part 5

by OtterlyWasted



Series: ACOMAF - Rhysand's Perspective [5]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Hybern, Prythian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-05-01 20:40:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 50,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19185160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OtterlyWasted/pseuds/OtterlyWasted
Summary: WARNING: If you have not read A Court of Mist and Fury by Sarah J. Maas I strongly suggest you go read it first - it's undoubtedly better written and what I have written will spoil the book for you.I am re-writing all of ACOMAF from Rhysand's perspective, using all of the original characters/scenes/dialogue, and adding in new bits and bobs to flesh his story out more.This Section:Ch. 1 - Rhysand buys jewelry for Feyre and makes plans (New scene)Ch. 2 - Rhysand meets the Archeron sisters for the first timeCh. 3 - Feyre tries to train but is attacked by the Attor (Partial new scene)Ch. 4 - Escorting the sisters to mail the letter, and questioning the Attor (Partial new scene)Ch. 5 - A night out on the town - dinner in VelarisCh. 6 - Feyre trains with Cassian, then trains her magic with Rhysand (Partial new scene)Ch. 7 - A night at the club, a plan to visit the Summer Court, lunch with Feyre and a night playing cards at the bar (Several new scenes)I hope you all enjoy!*Disclaimer - I do not take credit for the any of the characters or the world created by Sarah J. Maas.





	1. A Crown of Night

I stayed at the Night Court for several hours by myself, until I felt like I might not shatter. I wasn’t ready to face Feyre again though, not yet – if I saw that sympathy in her eyes again…

I cleaned myself up and changed out of my leathers into my normal town garb, dismissed the bubble around myself, and then winnowed above the House of Wind, snapping out my wings to catch the current, and glided into the war room once again. Amren was gone now, and it was Cassian and Mor standing around the black stone table, looking over reports.

Landing on the polished stone floor I walked over to join them while they flashed me welcoming smiles.

“Cassian told me that Feyre beat the crap out of the Weaver,” Mor announced before I had even reached the table.

I arched a brow at Cassian, “Well, she smashed a brick into her face, I’m not sure that constitutes kicking her ass, but she definitely had a unique approach to escaping her. At least now she knows that she _can_  fight back and escape.”

Cassian grinned at me “She’s got some spunk; I’ll give you that. You should have seen her, Mor, she looked ready to kick _his_ ass when they got back.”

Mor laughed and I shook my head, “Well she’ll fit right in with the rest of you then.”

I walked around the table to a chair designed for Illyrian wings and sank back into it with a sigh.

“Has there been any word from Summer Court?” I asked them as I leaned back.

Mor shook her head, “No, though you know it can take time for those requests to get processed, so it’s not unsurprising.”

I let out a sigh and nodded, “I know, that’s why I sent it off as early as I did. Well, then we need to attack the other front in regard to the Book, we need to head to the mortal lands.”

Mor crossed her arms and Cassian perked up with interest, and I arched a brow at him.

He shrugged and grinned, “Hey, it will be something different, don’t fault me for being excited.”

I rolled my eyes, “Getting bored in the job as General?”

He smirked, “No, just bored with seeing the same damn, pig-headed Illyrian camp leader faces all sneering at me every damn time I show up.”

The Illyrian’s were a proud, stubborn and steadfast group of fae – they did _not_ take to change well at all - but one would think that even if Cassian was a bastard, he was still full blooded Illyrian and the best warrior that had come out of the camps in a millenia or two, and as such they might not resort to being such colossal assholes. No such luck – and I knew that while he had no intention of throwing in the towel on the whole lot of them, there was a part of him that did get worn down at their consistent behavior towards him. Truthfully, I would love to go and throttle the whole lot of them, but with war approaching we had to make some concessions – a reality I had not approved of with my father, but now as High Lord I understood better. 

They were still assholes.

I managed a vague smile at Cassian, “Well then consider this trip to the mortal land a mini-vacation, you know, while still working, just in a new environment.”

Cassian gave me a rude gesture while Mor laughed.

I actually grinned this time while I glanced at Mor, “I would like you to go with us, you had more experience with humans, it might go a long way towards Feyre’s sisters agreeing to work with us.”

Mor studied my eyes for a moment, then shook her head, “No. I don’t think I should go. Maybe… not yet.” She hesitated then continued, “Maybe when the Queens arrive.”

I frowned a little, my brows furrowing, “Why?”

“Are you ordering me to go, Rhysand?” She asked me suddenly, sharply. 

I blinked, shocked. “No… I just want to understand why, Mor.”

Shrugging, she looked away, “I have my reasons, and I would prefer not to have to explain them.”

I studied her for a moment, then glanced at Cassian, the question written on my face – _do you know why?_

He just shrugged at me – which was really not a useful answer.

I wasn’t entirely ready to drop the subject – but I would address her about it in private later.

“Alright. In any case, I would like you,” I nodded towards Cassian, “and Azriel to join us. I don’t expect there to be any problems, but with Feyre joining us I would prefer to be cautious. We will be passing near the Spring Court – I doubt he will be able to sense her, but I want to have options in defense and escape just in case.”

Cassian nodded, “Makes sense to me, Az is off checking the Summer Court fleet again – he says it hasn’t made any movement north, but he is still keeping an eye on it. I’ll let him know when he gets back.”

“Good. I didn’t get a chance to talk to Amren before, does she have any updates for me?”

Cassian glanced down at the paperwork on the table, “Not really, she has been spending a lot of time in the library, hunting down any information - even children’s stories - about the Cauldron, anything that might give us an edge.” He glanced up at me and smirked, “I think she might be going a little stir crazy, either you need to get her a bigger library or a new shiny piece of jewelry.”

I barked a laugh and reached up, rubbing my eyes. “I would give her the libraries at the Day Court if I could, but I will have to settle with the jewelry I’m afraid.” I glanced to Mor, “Anything I need to know about with the Hewn City? Or Velaris for that matter?” 

Mor’s shoulders had relaxed again after I didn’t pursue her about going with us to the Mortal lands. She shrugged a little, “Status quo in both, though I think you should make a trip to the Hewn City and hold court soon, they’re starting to act up again – petty stuff. They seem bolder about it since… Under the Mountain,” her eyes darkened a little. “Velaris is doing well, the trade changes you made a month or so ago have been working well – no major complaints.”

I reached up, running a hand through my hair – if Mor was suggesting that I go to Hewn City to hold court, then it was likely that my court was doing a bit more than acting up. She wouldn’t suggest that until their behavior was truly beginning to become a concern – she would instead try diplomatic means and blackmail to force them to behave first. I wasn’t up for going right now though, I felt raw inside after… after the memories.

“Alright, I’ll go after we get back from the Mortal lands.” I glanced out towards the sky, gauging the time, then back at Mor, “Want to go shopping with me cousin? I want to pick something up for Amren before we leave tomorrow.” I grinned at her playfully, “I’ll buy you something pretty too.”

Cassian rolled his eyes, but Mor smiled brightly.

“Why don’t we make it an evening? We haven’t all gone out together in a while… please, Rhys?”

I raised a brow, but Cassian butted in, “I’ll go to dinner or out for a drink, but I’m passing on the shopping. How about you two go, and I’ll wait for Azriel and we’ll meet you somewhere.”

Well… this was turning into more of a night than I had intended, but… it might be nice.

“We should invite Feyre-“ Mor began, but I shook my head suddenly, sharply – shocking them.

“No. Feyre… she needs to rest. I’ve pushed her hard the last two days, and tomorrow I am taking her to see her family, and that won’t be easy on her. She hasn’t seen them since… since she was changed.” I glanced at them, at the shock on their face, and the concern, then glanced away. “And I’m not up for being out long tonight, it’s been a rough few days for me as well.”

They were both quiet for a few minutes, then Mor nodded, “Shopping and a few drinks,” and she smiled at me, “sounds like fun.”

I stood up, “Alright. Are you ready to go now, or do you want to go change Mor?”

Cassian let out a sigh of disgust and Mor reached over to slap his arm, “Comb your hair before you join us tonight, bastard.”

He smirked, “You could comb it for me.”

Mor rolled her eyes, “I’ll shave you bald, you giant bat.”

Chuckling a little, I made my way to the window, “If you two are going to be a while…”

Mor waved a hand, cutting off the retort Cassian was about to say, and walked over to me. “I’m ready, I’m ready, you’re so impatient sometimes Rhys.”

I shrugged, still grinning a little as Mor stepped up onto the window with me..

“Where should we meet for drinks?” Cassian asked as we both began to leap into open air.

“Rita’s!” Mor yelled as we began free falling through the air until we were past the wards, then we both winnowed to the streets of Velaris, just outside of the Palace of Thread and Jewels. Once we were on the paved stones, I tucked my hands into my pockets and we began to stroll towards the throng of crowds.

Mor remained quiet for a while, but it didn’t take her too long before she asked, “Did something happen with Feyre? Is she alright?”

I glanced at her, then away, examining a display of fabrics through a shop window. “She’s fine. Why?”

Mor arched a brow at me, “You didn’t want her to come tonight – you have been adamant about including her in everything, but tonight you don’t want to? Why?”

 _Because,_ I wanted to say, _she saw something good in me, and the relief is too painful to face again tonight._

I shrugged instead, “She’s tired Mor, you’ve seen her – she’s still not sleeping well, and she’s struggling to keep food down at night. We’ll bring her out one night soon, I promised to show her Velaris at night, just give her time. Crowds still upset her; they make her anxious. Just give her time.”

Mor reached over and grabbed my arm, stopping me while she stepped around to meet my gaze, studying my face. Her eyes narrowed, reading something there that she didn’t entirely understand… but she decided not to push me about. Instead, she released my arm and nodded, managing a teasing smile, “Alright. But you should buy her something pretty too – she’s been working as hard as Amren.”

I stared at her for a moment and felt my heart race at the idea – I wasn’t sure why. I had bought things for Feyre, well… Nuala and Cerridwen had bought them for her, but out of my funds. This… would be different though. Picking something out myself, just for her, maybe… maybe something she could wear tomorrow.

Immediately I knew what I wanted to buy her, and it made me jittery with excitement.

I grinned at her, “That is a wonderful idea cousin – I should give you a raise.”

She laughed and I led her to my favorite jewelry shop.

Neve’s shop was my preferred shop of choice when it came to buying jewelry for Amren – it tended to boast flashier pieces, those with larger stones. Being Tartera – a species of fae that dwelled in the deep mountain caves – her own family were the ones that supplied her shop with their marvelously crafted pieces.

Mor browsed around while Neve pulled out a few trays, displaying several different selections, from rings to necklaces to brooches. Considering my options, my gaze kept returning to a piece, braided gold as thick as my thumb, with a large emerald draping from it, the top of it capped with gold, and diamonds set around the edge. It was stunning, and bold – just the way Amren liked it. Perhaps a bit much for a random gift and not a holiday, but I knew that very shortly she would be faced with an extremely difficult task. I might as well go bold with the gift - pay it forward as it were.

“That necklace would be perfect.” I gestured to it as Mor came up beside me to see what I picked.

She laughed, “Oh yes, Amren will _love_ that.”

Neve smiled, though you couldn’t tell by her lips as her entire body was wreathed in permanent shadow, rather just the vague crinkle around her black glowing eyes let me know she was amused, and pleased. 

“Excellent choice High Lord. Shall I have it wrapped? Would you like us to deliver it for you?” She asked quietly, her voice almost gravely.

“Please wrap it, but I will deliver it myself.”

A nod while she removed the necklace from its display and began to wrap it. I turned to look at Mor and arched a brow, “What about you, hmm? Anything here you want?” She glanced at around, “Mm… no, I don’t think so. Honestly, just getting you to go to Rita’s with us tonight is gift enough.”

That shocked me, but then I realized that I hadn’t gone out with them – not in the three months since my return. We had dined together at my house often enough, but I hadn’t agreed to spend the night out on the town. I frowned a little and wondered why I had resisted…

Mor interrupted my thoughts, “What about Feyre? What are you going to get her?”

Always happy to think about Feyre instead of my own troubles, I smiled. “You’ll see, I have one more stop to make.”

I saw Neve closing the lid on the black box containing the necklace and turned to thank her, “Thank you Neve, please just send the bill to the House.”

She bowed and handed me the box, “Of course High Lord, thank you for your patronage.”

I accept the box and sent it to my pocket realm for safe keeping, nodding another thanks to Neve, then led Mor out of the shop.

We walked through the streets, still busy despite the lateness of the hour, and turned around a corner. A few shops down, I stopped in front of a tiny little store, and opened the door, gesturing for Mor to step ahead of me.

There were fewer displays of jewelry, and all of the designs were simpler, not as bold as the last shop – but every piece boasted one thing similar - the most prominent gemstone used was lapis lazuli. While not as sought after as diamond or sapphire, it was still a treasured gemstone in the Night Court, as it often resembled the night sky. The shop owner, a tall slender male fae, with gray-green skin and dark brown eyes, reminding me of richly tilled soil, looked up as we entered and froze in shock. 

“H-High Lord!” He exclaimed and quickly bowed.

I smiled warmly, “Hello Gantry, it’s good to see you again.”

I had visited this shop before, buying gifts for Mor and Amren in the past. The quality was good, excellent even, and I was fond of how the simple designs seemed to enhance the beauty of the gemstone.

He quickly crossed the room and bowed to me.

I gestured to Mor beside me, “This is Morrigan, she has been the recipient of one of your pieces before.”

Mor grinned at him brightly, “It was truly lovely, you do fine work.”

He flushed with pleasure and bowed his head to her, “Thank you my Lady.” Turning his attention to me again he gestured broadly and asked, “How may I help you my Lord?”

The jittery excitement bubbled in me again, but I kept my voice calm, “I’m looking for a diadem.”

Mor looked at me, a knowing smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

“Of course, of course, I have several available currently. This way my Lord.” Gantry gestured, and I followed after him to a counter where he removed a tray and sat it in front of me.

Mor joined us, standing at my side as I looked them over – most were made with silver, but two were made with gold. I thought about the gold, twisting in amongst her brown-gold hair, and knew it would be lovely.

Of the two designs, the one that caught my eye was a simple gold band, with pieces of the lapis lazuli set around the entire perimeter of it. I glanced at Mor and gestured, “What do you think of that one?”

She examined it, then looked at me and smiled, “She will look lovely wearing it, Rhys.”

My heart tightened and I nodded, “I think this one will be perfect Gantry.” I paused then added, “Do you have a set of earrings that would go well with it?”

He did of course, setting the selected diadem on a black velvet tray, and then led me to a display of earrings. I chose a pair of dangling earrings, hanging low and heavy with the lapis lazuli, accented with matching gold.

“Excellent choice my Lord,” he said as he placed the earrings on the tray beside the diadem. I saw him hesitate, then ask, “May I ask who these are for?”

Mor looked at me, curious if I would answer, but I smiled and said quietly, “Feyre Cursebreaker.”

His eyes widened.

 - - - ~*~ - - -

On the way to Rita’s I broached the topic to Mor again.

“Mor… why don’t you want to go with us tomorrow? It will only be Feyre’s family this time.”

Her eyes flashed to mine, then away, “Exactly.”

I frowned at her, confused.

She let out a sigh and shrugged, “Rhys, I’m not sure I could behave myself.”

Now I was extremely confused.

“I don’t-“ I began.

She cut me off with an agitated jerk of her hand, “Rhys, her family failed her. They did not protect her, they let her go into danger to ensure their own survival – and in the end, they benefited wildly from it, at the cost of her sacrifice.”

I stopped dead in the street and stared at Mor, who stopped and turned to look at me.

It was her story, Mor’s story, all except for one detail – no one had saved Feyre. Not until… it was too late. She had died, and we had brought her back – but her family had failed to save her, had in fact let her go into danger and death. Anger burned inside of me as I considered what Feyre’s family had done, or rather, had not done to protect her. 

Mor watched my eyes, and nodded, agreeing.

I let out a breath, and started walking again, and she fell into step beside me.

“I understand,” I said quietly, “I still wish you could come. If for no other reason than to be there for Feyre. She likes you and trusts you – if she had one person there that she believed stood behind her, in her favor, it might go a long way to helping her not shatter tomorrow.”

Mor was quiet for several minutes, but I could hear the smile in her voice, “Feyre doesn’t need me tomorrow for that. She has you.”

I just shook my head, “She barely trusts me, and doesn’t particularly like me at all. I’m happy that she at least tolerates me – and that’s when I’m not pissing her off.”

Mor tossed her head back as she laughed, “Oh Rhys, sometimes we all only tolerate you, especially when you’re pissing us off.” She paused then said, “And she does like you, whether or not you want to admit it, it’s not hard to realize. Stop looking for all the ways you think she should hate you and take some time to look at the ways she might like you.” She glanced at me, “Try it tomorrow – it might surprise you.”

I swallowed, quiet for several long moments, then said, “I’ll try.”

Mor didn’t answer, except to wave enthusiastically at Cassian and Azriel, who were walking up to Rita’s from the opposite direction of us. Cassian grinned, and Azriel smiled briefly, his eyes drinking in the sight of Mor. I realized, that must be me with Feyre, and realized that the brief flash of pain I felt for my brother, because Mor had never reciprocated the love he had for her, must be how my family felt for me. I let out a sigh and followed them all inside.

The music was loud, and the floor was crowded with fae dancing and laughing, and Mor’s face lit up with happiness.

Cassian just shook his head at the dance floor and made his way to the bar. I followed behind him, with Azriel hovering near Mor who had taken off to talk to a group of fae who waved at her.

We ordered drinks for the everyone and waited for them to be served before weaving our way through the crowd, finding an empty booth tucked to the side and settled into it.

I sipped at my drink, watching the fae around us, their faces bright and happy, and smiled briefly. This was what being High Lord was all about – ensuring the safety of my lands so that my people could gather, and celebrate, dance and laugh and _live_ , freely. To see it happen, to see this joy…

Cassian leaned forward on the table, glancing at me, “You try to convince her to go again?”

It took me a moment, but I slipped out of my thoughts and looked at Cassian, nodding, “Yes, but she is still adamant about not going.” I hesitated a moment for I said, “She explained why though…” I fell silent again, the anger simmering in me once more.

He took a long drink before setting the glass back down between his hands, looking down at it, “I’m going to struggle with it as well, I’ll do my best not to say anything, but Rhys…” He trailed off, letting out a sigh.

I understood and knew it would be a trial for me as well.

“It’s no different than the situation with Mor and her family, it’s Feyre’s family and she gets to decide how they will be handled, and we must abide that decision.” I met his eyes for a moment, and he nodded, agreeing.

We both took a drink and looked up as Mor and Azriel joined us. 

Azriel slid into the booth beside Cassian and picked up his drink, sipping at it. Mor stood, leaning against the table and grinned at us, “Don’t tell me you three are just going to sit here drinking and brooding all night long.”

Azriel smiled a little, “Brooding is what some of us do best.”

 

Mor huffed a laugh and picked up her drink, downed it and then put it back on the table. “Well I’m going to dance, if any of you grouches decide brooding is too tiresome, come find me.” She winked at us and twirled off to the dance floor, melding effortlessly with the other fae there.

We all watched her, before glancing at each other and laughed.

“How many nights a week does she spend here?” I asked. 

Cassian smirked, “She tries to drag me here all the time, nearly every night it seems like. The drinks are good, but the music is too damn loud.”

Azriel chuckled, “That’s not what really gets to you brother, it’s that she gets you drunk enough to dance, and you pay for it the next day.”

Cassian glared at Azriel and I laughed.

Azriel smirked slightly at Cassian, then looked at me, his face going serious, “I checked the fleet, all ships accounted for and still no troop movement in the seasonal courts.”

All humor wiped clean I nodded, leaning back into the booth with a sigh. “I can’t believe Tamlin is doing _nothing_ , but if there is no troop movement then it is being done in stealth.” I frowned a little, thinking, “Before, when Feyre was still a part of the Spring Court, there was rumor that Tamlin was looking to make a bargain with Hybern.”

I glanced at Azriel, who nodded slowly, “You said it had to do with breaking your bargain.”

I nodded and crossed my arms, “Yes… but what if the terms were changed, retrieval... and breaking the bargain.”

Cassian hissed and leaned forward, his eyes flashing, “You think he would be that stupid?”

I laughed, humorlessly, “Oh, I think he is that stupid, and that possessive; and he has a solid bargaining chip.”

Azriel’s eyes darkened, “The Wall.”

I nodded and Cassian let out a growl, “You can’t think… He would betray his people, all of Prythian, for her?”

Leaning my head back, I looked up at the ceiling above, swathed in shadows with flickers of light dancing over it – reminding me of the night sky. “Why not?” I said, “He did it before. He had fifty years to break the curse, and he squandered that time – only trying at the very end, and he failed.” Granted, I was the reason he failed, but he could have ignored my attempts and chose not to. I looked back at them, “It took a human girl with a brave, selfless heart to face horror and torture and death to save us.”

Azriel frowned, twisting the glass between his hands, his Siphons flashing in the light. “If that’s the case, they will be looking for her. There may even be eyes around her family’s home. Perhaps… she should not go.”

I let out a breath, “She has to go – they won’t trust us. Besides… if I suggested she shouldn’t go, she would only get stubborn about going.” I smirked a little at that, “However… we might be able to use this to our advantage – a way to send a message to Hybern.”

Cassian frowned at me, “I’m not going to like the sound of this.”

“Probably not, I don’t like it either, but it would be decisive.” I looked at Azriel, “I would need your help.”

He nodded, without hesitation. “How will you get her to go out alone? Will you tell her?”

Cassian blinked and then growled, “You’re going to set her out as bait for someone to _grab_ her? Damnit Rhys!”

I looked at Cassian calmly, “She is likely being hunted already, I would rather they make an attempt on my terms than theirs. We will be waiting for it and will capture whoever comes after her. It will give us a chance at valuable information, and we can send them a message – come after her at your own peril.”

He continued to glare at me but didn’t argue with me further. He knew it was a solid idea, but he didn’t like it – and ultimately neither did I, but sometimes hard decisions had to be made, and this would be for her benefit in the end.

I looked back at Azriel, “No, I’m not going to tell her. She needs to be unaware to make the attacker feel comfortable enough to make an attempt.” I unfolded my arms and reached up with one hand to rub my eyes, “I’m not sure how I will get her time by herself, but I’ll figure that out once we’re there.”

Azriel nodded and leaned back, the shadows swirling thickly around him.

I glanced around, and suddenly I had a strong desire to be alone, somewhere quiet. Home. Taking one last drink, I sat my glass down and slid out of the booth. “I’m heading home.” I smiled at them briefly, “Come for breakfast tomorrow, Feyre hasn’t had a lot of time around you, and I would like her to get more comfortable with you.”

They both nodded their agreement, and I made my way out, pausing for a moment at the door to watch Mor dancing, and Azriel leaving the booth to join her while Cassian headed to the bar again.

I chuckled a little, I had a feeling that the two of them would be the worse for wear tomorrow.


	2. The Battle of the Archerons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: If you have not read A Court of Mist and Fury by Sarah J. Maas I strongly suggest you go read it first - it's undoubtedly better written and what I have written will spoil the book for you.
> 
> I am re-writing all of ACOMAF from Rhysand's perspective, using all of the original characters/scenes/dialogue, and adding in new bits and bobs to flesh his story out more.
> 
> This Section:  
> Ch. 1 - Rhysand buys jewelry for Feyre and makes plans (New scene)  
> Ch. 2 - Rhysand meets the Archeron sisters for the first time  
> Ch. 3 - Feyre tries to train but is attacked by the Attor (Partial new scene)  
> Ch. 4 - Escorting the sisters to mail the letter, and questioning the Attor (Partial new scene)  
> Ch. 5 - A night out on the town - dinner in Velaris  
> Ch. 6 - Feyre trains with Cassian, then trains her magic with Rhysand (Partial new scene)  
> Ch. 7 - A night at the club, a plan to visit the Summer Court, lunch with Feyre and a night playing cards at the bar (Several new scenes)
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> *Disclaimer - I do not take credit for the any of the characters or the world created by Sarah J. Maas.

I managed another night of sleep without waking in terror from a nightmare, though my dreams were less than peaceful. Sitting at the breakfast table it seemed to me that Feyre had fared better in her sleep as well, the marks under her eyes were a dusky purple instead of black, and her movements did not seem so sluggish. Nuala and Cerridwen had already done up her hair for the day, braiding part of it and wrapping it around her head in a coronet, though she was dressed only in a pair of pants and simple shirt. I had given Nuala the jewelry I purchased for Feyre last night, and she had promised to set it out for her to done just before leaving. I originally planned on giving it to Feyre directly but… it felt too intimate. If I was going to give her a piece of jewelry directly, I had a more specific piece in mind, and it sat tucked in an inner pocket of my coat, waiting.

Glancing at Cassian and Azriel they looked half dead, both wincing at the sunlight and grumbling over their plates. Mor was of course, bright and perky and piling enormous amounts of food onto her plate, devouring it as though it might be her last meal. I think I understood where all that food went to, if she spent most nights at the bar dancing. Smiling a little, I glanced over to Amren who was sitting opposite of Mor, beside Azriel, her fingers stroking the emerald on the necklace I had given her this morning, looking as though she wanted to purr in delight – the firedrake with her hoard.

I felt such contentment at this moment, surrounded by those people I loved. This had to be enough, would surely be enough – I could not expect for more in my life.

I glanced down at Feyre, and my heart squeezed at the sight of her.

It wasn’t enough.

It would have to be. She was not mine; she never would be. But there had been sympathy in her eyes, there had been kindness when she grabbed my wrist, there had been that moment in the forest where electricity had sparked between us…

Feeling Mor’s gaze on me I looked towards her and was met with a smirk of amusement. Glaring at her a little, I broke the silence, “How late were you three out last night?” 

Cassian groaned, “Too damn late. I’m never going to Rita’s again, or dancing again, or drinking again.”

Mor laughed, “We had a great time! You should have stayed Rhysand.”

Azriel just shook his head and drank his tea.

I grinned a little and saw Feyre glancing between all of us, a look of confusion on her face. I swallowed and explained, “We went to a bar last night, there is dancing there.” I hesitated and said, “After the Weaver you looked so tired, I didn’t want to disturb you.”

She met my gaze then shrugged and returned her attention back to her plate as she said, “That’s fine.”

Mor shot me a look of accusation and I ignored it. Or tried to.

“Who all is going?” Feyre asked suddenly, without glancing up, taking another bite.

I gestured to Cassian and Azriel, “They are, for additional protection.”

She did glance up at that, “Do you expect there to be danger?”

Cassian frowned at me, after our conversation last night, but Feyre didn’t notice and I shook my head. “No, however being cautious is not a bad thing. Besides, I intend to have them with me when we meet the Queens, it would do well for your family to meet them first, so they aren’t startled by them.” 

Feyre glanced at both of them and said simply, “They’re going to be a bit more than startled.” She hesitated, glancing down at herself, “By all of us.” 

Everyone went quiet, looking at her, and I think she felt it. Placing her napkin on the table, she stood up, “I’m going to get dressed.”

We all watched as she quickly fled the room, my eyes following her every step until she disappeared up the stairs. They all looked at me then and I let out a sigh. I had no words to say, and no idea how to help her with this.

Mor met my gaze, smiled briefly, then stood and said, “I’m going to go see if she wants some company.”

I nodded at her, grateful and watched her leave.

Amren closed the lid on her jewelry and stood up, “I’ll head back to the library, if you don’t need me further.”

I glanced at her and nodded, “Thank you Amren, I hope we’ll have at least half of the Book for you to study soon.”

Her eyes flashed once as she nodded, then headed out, calling over her shoulder, “Good.”

Glancing at Cassian and Azriel I raised a brow, “Are you two going to be functional by the time we need to leave?”

Cassian gave me a rude gesture.

Azriel took a sip of tea then said quietly, “I’m ready.”

Cassian just grumbled.

I smiled briefly, and leaned back, waiting.

\- - - ~*~ - - - 

Feyre did not dally in getting ready. When the clock struck ten, the three of us were standing at the base of the stairs and I was looking up, watching for her. Her door opened and she paused at the top of the stairs, taking in the sight of the us.

My breathing hitched at the sight of her, dressed in turquoise and gold that brought out the gold in her hair and seemed to make her skin glow. She wore long pants, and a tight blouse with long sheer sleeves buttoned around her wrists. It was not appropriate for the cold, but it was beautiful on her. The diadem was in place upon her head, crowning her in gold and lapis lazuli… crowning her in the night sky. She wore the earrings as well and they hung low, the gemstone brushing against the sides of her neck.

Mor came up beside her, looked at me and grinned, then headed down the stairs before Feyre did, “I have a cloak you can borrow; it will be cold in the south.”

Feyre finally looked away from my gaze and made her way down the stairs and walked past me to join Mor at the hall closet. Mor pulled out the cloak, thick and fur lined and held it out to Feyre, who smiled at her in thanks and slipped it on.

Feyre turned again, looking at all of us before meeting my gaze for a long moment, and I felt it again, that spark of electricity through us, and my heart pounded… and she looked away, straight to Azriel and said, “I’ll fly with Azriel.”

I was stunned. And so was Cassian.

If Azriel was as well, he didn’t show it. Instead he simply bowed his head and said, “Of course.”

I swallowed. Her choice, always her choice.

I released the shadows around my wings, allowing them to unfurl behind me then walked up to Cassian who eyed me archly but said nothing as I took his arm and winnowed us both out across the world, near the Spring Court but miles from the shore above the ocean. Letting go of Cassian’s arm his wings spread and caught the current, soaring up while I fell towards the churning waters.

Pulling the shadows around myself again I winnowed back to the foyer in Velaris. Seeing me, Azriel turned to Feyre, who walked towards him and let him scoop her into his arms. She looked a little uncomfortable, but only gave me a sharp look, “Don’t let the wind ruin my hair.”

I let out a snort – trying to hide my annoyance and confusion by her choice, and reached out, gripping Azriel’s arm. Again, I winnowed us out to the ocean, letting go of Azriel when he arrived, his wings snapping out as Cassian’s had.

I free fell a few feet before I wrapped myself in darkness again and winnowed to just in front of the Wall, extending my wings to catch the current and soaring towards the rift. The Wall loomed ahead of me, though it was completely invisible. It felt like a shift in the world, as though the world had been split and put back together, but the edges did not quite meet up properly again. There was a scent to it as well, and a taste, metallic and… bitter. The Wall was all wrong, it was not meant to exist, the world was not meant to be divided this way. 

Tucking my wings in, I dove down and soared through the rift, spreading my wings on the other side and caught the current, soaring up to meet Cassian and twisting to await Azriel and Feyre.

Cassian looked over at me while we waited before he called out over the sound of the wind and ocean, “It doesn’t mean anything that she chose Azriel. Or at least, not what you think it means.”

I glanced at him but didn’t respond.

Several minutes later Azriel appeared through the rift, with Feyre still in his arms and I let out a breath of relief. Cassian and I twisted and dove and began making our way towards the shoreline, Azriel catching up with us shortly. I spun the darkness out of me, and once we were in a tight formation, I wrapped it around us in a bubble, hiding us from sight and sound.

Earlier in the morning Feyre had explained where her family’s home was and described how it looked. It wasn’t hard to find, though when we arrived the size of it had shocked me a little – Tamlin had been extremely generous it seemed.

We landed on the drive, and I kept the shield around us while Azriel let Feyre down and she smoothed her cloak.

Glancing at me she said quietly, “Let me go in alone and explain everything to them first.”

I frowned a little but remembered my words to Cassian last night – her family, her choice. I nodded and gestured, “As you wish, we will wait here.”

She looked back at the chateau and took a deep breath before walking the last few feet up the drive to the door and pulled the bell. We all watched as a woman answered the door, and watched as the woman’s gaze shifted from friendly to distrustful, with no intention of letting Feyre inside. Cassian shifted behind me, letting out a low growl but I held up a hand to him, “Peace, Cassian – we cannot force this.”

Moments later another woman came to the door, sweet faced and beautiful, and broke into tears – a sister perhaps? There was some resemblance, in the nose and the arch of the brow. Another minute, and then Feyre entered the house and the door shut behind her and I let a breath out.

Turning to them both, “Cassian sweep the grounds and the nearby forest, be back in an hour.” He nodded and his Siphons flashed, wrapping himself in a private shield that turned him invisible, and only the beat of his wings told us he had launched into the air.

Looking to Azriel, “Head out further, there is a village near by – get the lay of the land and see what defenses they might have.” He nodded as well and followed Cassian into the sky, drawing his shadows around himself instead to make himself invisible and headed in the opposite direction.

I pulled my darkness around myself and winnowed closer to the house – staying outside but hiding any possible tracks as I peered through windows until I found them. Settled in a luxurious sitting room, Feyre and two others sat together - the woman who had cried at the door and another woman, stone-faced and hard.

I stayed at the window and kept the shield around myself, invisible. I couldn’t hear them, not well at least, occasional words – sharper ones spoken by the stone-faced woman and the impassioned words from Feyre in response. When Feyre removed her hood and revealed herself to be fae I saw them stiffen and lean back from her in shock. Then the soft faced woman leaned forward and spoke, and both Feyre and the other woman sat and listened… and then she was up and walking from the room.

Feyre and the stone-faced woman stared at each other for long minutes before speaking again, and at one point I saw Feyre’s shoulders hunch slightly and I frowned, wondering what had been said. Shortly after though, the stone-faced woman left the room as well, and Feyre remained by herself – and I wanted to go to her. She looked so alone, so out of place in this room – not that she couldn’t fit into grandeur but rather that it was _this_ room, _this_ house where she did not belong, perhaps even this life. 

She was not a pretty doll to be put on display and married off, she was a huntress, a fighter, she was made of snow and pine and the hard edge of survival. Perhaps once she would have been more like the soft faced woman, but all of that had been left behind, starved out during long winter months with little food and far less comfort. All that was left was the glory and radiance of a woman who had learned to take care of herself and those whom she loved – rather they loved her back or not.

Letting out a breath, I winnowed back to where I had been and waited to see what would happen next and waited for Cassian and Azriel to appear. An hour later there was a surge of movement in and around the house with what appeared to be servants loading up trunks and luggage into carriages, and then piling in themselves.

Cassian landed beside me first and reported to me about the property and the forest while we both watched the max exodus of servants as the first carriage pulled out.

Azriel landed next and opened his mind to me – a quick and more efficient way for him to show me the terrain and village. Reviewing everything he saw I glanced back at him with a touch of shock, “There are no defenses? No troops or fighters at all?”

He shook his head once, “Nothing beyond a local group of volunteers, and they did not look particularly well trained.”

I stared at him for a moment before looking back at the chateau as another carriage filled with servants and luggage. What had happened to all the freedom fighters? Had the humans truly forgotten the danger the fae posed?

Hopefully there were better defenses in place on the mainland – it may just be there weren’t enough resources to maintain a standing militia here. However, if the mainland was equally as unprepared for war, or even just basic defense, a lot of humans were going to die. I could only hope that the mortal Queens would be responsive to our requests and believe that we were desperately trying to save them as well – or in the end, my people may be lost as well.

\- - - ~*~ - - - 

Another hour, then two, as the carriages returned, piled full, left and returned again. After the third time of leaving, the last carriage carrying only a handful of servants, one of them being the woman who had first answered the door for Feyre hours before, I knew the property was clear. 

I glanced back at the two of them and received nods – they were ready as well. Taking a breath, I wrapped darkness around my wings, hiding them, and then shifted my clothing from the Illyrian leathers I had arrived in to my pristine black town clothes. Finally, I dropped the bubble from around us, rendering us visible once again, and led my brothers up to the front door of the house.

Raising a hand, I knocked on the door lightly, and waited – not for long however, Feyre must have been standing by the door, waiting. The door opened quickly, golden light spilling out over the snow piled on the ground, though now trampled by many sets of feet all ‘fleeing’ the chateau. Feyre stood in the doorway and stared at all of us, almost as though she had not seen us before, a little frown on her face. 

I arched a brow at her, “You’d think they’d been told plague had befallen the house.”

She opened the door wider and stepped aside, gesturing us in, then closed the door behind us.

“My sister Elain can convince anyone to do anything with a few smiles.”

Cassian and Azriel were inspecting the house, but I kept my eyes on Feyre – she looked tired, and heart-sore. Cassian interrupted my consideration of her when he whistled. Only then did I glance around and was a little shocked. The quality and décor of the house was impressive, even for fae.

“Your father must be a fine merchant,” Cassian finally said. “I’ve seen castles with less wealth.”

The comment about her father led me to glancing back at her, brow arched again. She read the question there and answered, “My father is away on business – and attending a meeting in Neva about the threat of Prythian.”

That caught all of us by surprise, and Cassian twisted to look at Feyre, “Prythian? Not Hybern?”

She shrugged once, “It’s possible my sisters were mistaken – your lands are foreign to them.”

That made me frown just a touch – she wasn’t wrong, and yet she still was. They were her lands as well… but only if she decided to claim them as such.

“They merely said, ‘above the wall’.” She continued as though she hadn’t noticed my frown, “I assumed they thought it was Prythian.”

Azriel moved forward then, his shadows withdrawn deep inside of him, though there was still a touch of something to him, some other-worldly sense that was too ingrained in his being to be hidden.

“If humans are aware of the threat, rallying against it, then that might give us an advantage when contacting the Queens.” Though he had seen no proof of it in the neighboring village, it could be on the main continent things were different.

I kept my eyes on Feyre, the weight of this meeting seemed to be crushing her slowly, and I wanted to conclude it for her as quickly as possible. Raising a hand, I gestured, “Come. Let’s make this introduction.”

Feyre let out a breath and nodded, then led us through the main hall to a door on the side that led into a large dining room. Against a wall of windows stood the two women I had spied on earlier, their bodies stiff with nervousness – though the stone-faced woman looked more angry than nervous.

We followed Feyre but stopped while still on one side of the table, giving them plenty of space – though Feyre stepped a few feet closer to them. Interestingly, the sisters inspected Feyre first, though she had been here for hours with them… I examined her as well, trying to understand why when I realized it was the cloak, she had removed the cloak, and her clothing was undeniably fae.

Their eyes shifted to us quickly though, and while they noticed me, they locked on Azriel and Cassian who – on the surface – looked the most dangerous, with their wings and height, strong muscles and worn leathers, though none of us wore a weapon for this meeting.

The soft faced woman had paled and for a moment I thought she might faint, but she remained standing. The stone-faced woman had tensed further and shifted to step in front of the other woman, providing a physical barrier between us and her, and dropped one fisted hand behind her back. Interesting.

Feyre waited a moment, then glanced back at us, at me and gestured to her sisters, “My sisters, Nesta and Elain Archeron.”

They did not bow or curtsey, or even move for that matter, their eyes wide with fear so heavy I could taste it.

Feyre then pivoted towards her sisters and introduced us, gesturing to the left, “Cassian.” Then to the right, “Azriel.” And then finally gestured to me, “And Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court.” 

Neither of these women were royalty, but they were Feyre’s sisters, and I could do no less but bow to them and say smoothly, “Thank you for your hospitality – and generosity.” I offered them a warm smile, though honestly it felt strained as I remembered what Mor had explained to me, of the similarities between Feyre’s family and her own.

The soft faced woman, Elain, tried for a smile, but failed. 

The stone-faced woman just looked at us all, cold and unwelcoming, before she finally spoke, “The cook left dinner on the table. We should eat before it goes cold.” Then she turned and headed off down the table, towards the end that had covered trays of food, and sat in the chair at the head of the table.

Elain rasped, “Nice to meet you,” before hustling after her sister quickly.

I glanced towards my brothers and saw Cassian’s grimace and Azriel’s withdrawn look, as though he wished to disappear into the shadows that called to him. I sighed and looked at Feyre, whose shoulders just sagged as she led us down the table, after her sisters.

Feyre took the chair to Nesta’s right, while Elain held the chair to Nesta’s left. Cassian claimed the chair next to Elain, and I sat next to Feyre, with Azriel on my other side. Elain glanced at Cassian once, and gripped her fork so tightly her knuckles were white – a fact that made Azriel smile faintly. Though both he and Cassian remained silent, focusing mostly on shifting their wings in such a way that they could fit around the human designed chairs.

Feyre noticed their movements to get comfortable and frowned, as though angry at herself for not realizing it would be a problem. I wanted to take her hand and assure her it was fine – we had all made do with chairs that were not designed for our wings before and would do so for the rest of our very long lives. I didn’t however, and she let out a breath before reaching over to pull the lids off the trays, exposing a selection of dishes.

The scent of the food was wrong – or rather, it lacked the many, varied spices we were used to in Velaris. That is not to say it smelled bad, just that it smelled wrong. Feyre reached over and began to fill her plate, releasing the rest of us to do the same, and for several minutes the only sound was of silverware scraping and clattering over the fine china.

Cassian, Azriel and I dug into the food – and the flavor matched the scent, wrong and bland. However, Cassian and Azriel were never one to pass up food, no matter how it tasted, and I was well practiced in hiding how I truly felt about something and matched their gusto, devouring the food on my plate. Feyre however… after one bite, that she seemed to struggle swallowing, hesitated to continue with her meal.

Nesta noticed this and asked flatly, “Is there something wrong with our food?”

Feyre’s gaze flashed to Nesta, “No.”

Then she took another bite and swallowed, following it up by a healthy drink of water.

Nesta all but sneered, “So you can’t eat normal food anymore –“ then she glanced at the rest of us appearing to eat just fine, “or are you too good for it?”

My body tensed at the challenge in her words, and I dropped my fork onto my plate, trying to restrain the anger building inside of myself. On Cassian’s side, Elain made a soft, distressed noise towards Nesta, as though reprimanding her in the most inefficient manner possible.

Feyre however, her back stiffened and her shoulders lifted before she rested one hand solidly on the table, meeting Nesta’s hard gaze as she said, “I can eat, drink, fuck and fight just as well as I did before. Better, even.”

Undiluted pride surged through me, even as Cassian choked on his water, and Azriel shifted his body as though preparing to lunge between Feyre and her sister. His actions did not seem unwarranted when I realized that down the bond, I could feel Feyre’s power thrumming through her body, could feel the burning heat of her power beating a path through her veins – it was building towards a sudden, explosive release.

Gently, I tugged on the bond, to get her attention, and then brushed cool tendrils of darkness along it, letting them wash over her mental shields in order to soothe her. I felt her shove hard against her shields, as though she thought they were lowered, only to realize they were in place, and the confusion as how my touch had brushed against her.

Without even looking at her, I calmly replied to Nesta, “If you ever come to Prythian, you will discover why your food tastes so different.”

Nesta’s gaze shifted to meet mine and she looked at me with cool indifference, “I have little interest in ever setting foot in your land, so I’ll have to take your word on it.”

She reminded me of Amren – though it seemed to me that Amren had more compassion, or at least, better tact.

“Nesta, please,” Elain whispered quietly to her sister, her face pale and pinched.

Cassian, however, was staring at Nesta, sizing her up with almost a playful smirk.

Nesta looked at him sharply and nearly snarled, “What are you looking at?”

All traces of amusement wiped clear from his face, and his eyes hardened as he leaned forward and said quietly, “Someone who let her youngest sister risk her life every day in the woods while she did nothing. Someone who let a fourteen-year-old child go out into that forest, so close to the Wall.” I felt Feyre’s unease, the heat of her body flushing and the way she leaned forward to interrupt, but Cassian just plowed on. “Your sister died – _died_ to save my people. She is willing to do so again to protect you from war. So don’t expect me to sit here with my mouth shut while you sneer at her for a choice she did not get to make – and insult _my_ people in the process.”

Nesta stared at him without emotion, then turned her attention away, dismissing him entirely. Cassian grinned cruelly, almost feral as he glared at her.

Elain caught between both of them, fair trembled with fear and I think perhaps, shame. “It… it is very hard, you understand, to… accept it,” she tried to explain hesitantly. It was then that I noticed the hand that griped her fork still bore a ring, a wedding ring, made of iron. It made me want to laugh – not only would iron do nothing to us, but the fact that her suitor thought it a worthy gift to win her hand. She met each of our gazes, staying on mine the longest, “We are raised this way. We hear stories of your kind crossing the wall to hurt us. Our own neighbor, Clare Beddor, was taken, her family murdered…”

Ice and guilt flooded though my veins, and I could not keep her gaze, could not bear to look at any of them, as I stared down at my mostly empty plate. I could remember her so clearly, pale and terrified, tears running down her face as she was dragged into the hall. I could remember Amarantha taunting her in front of Tamlin and his blank face as he stared at nothing – the same look he wore when Feyre was dragged in only days later. I could remember when they started torturing her…

“It’s all very disorienting.” Elain finished quietly.

A moment of silence, and then Azriel responded, quiet and calm, “I can imagine.” 

I looked up at him a little shocked by his response and catching Cassian’s glare at Azriel, all the while he maintained a polite, almost kind smile. That smile seemed to ease some of the tension in the room, and when I looked away from him I saw Elain sit a little higher in her chair, “And as for Feyre’s hunting during those years, it was not Nesta’s neglect alone that is to blame. We were scared, and had received no training, and everything had been taken, and we failed her. Both of us.”

Feyre swallowed and I looked at her sharply, but she did not meet my gaze and instead reached over, resting her hand over Nesta’s arm lightly, and said quietly, “Can we just… start over?” 

Nesta stared at Feyre, and there was no kindness, no warmth in those eyes, just shuttered cold. Her glance flickered to Cassian for a moment, and damn the bastard, he gave her a taunting grin.

She hissed, but looked at Feyre and muttered, “Fine.” Then resumed eating.

I let out a breath and glanced at Cassian, giving him a subtle shake of my head. He either didn’t see or chose to ignore me as he continued to stare at Nesta, watching every single move she made. I stared at him hard and realized… something. Something was different, something had shifted for him.

Brows furrowed, I only glanced away when Elaine spoke up again, her attention on Azriel now.

“Can you truly fly?”

He looked at her, briefly shocked before he sat down his fork and nodded once, “Yes. Cassian and I hail from a race of faeries called Illyrians. We’re born hearing the song of the wind.”

I understood and appreciated that he chose not include me – not because I was half-breed, that did not matter to him - but because it would have led to further questions about where my wings were, and a possible demonstration of my magic, which were attempting to limit.

Elain’s face brightened subtly, “That’s very beautiful.” She leaned forward with curiosity, “Is it not – frightening, though? To fly so high?”

Azriel smiled briefly, “It is sometimes. If you are caught in a storm, if the current drops away.” Cassian tore his gaze away from Nesta just long enough to nod in agreement, and Azriel shrugged, “But we are trained so thoroughly that the fear is gone before we’re out of swaddling.”

Nesta cut in suddenly, sharply, “You look like High Fae, but you are not?”

Cassian smirked and gestured at me and Feyre, “Only the High Fae who look like _them,_ ” he drawled without any real amusement, “are High Fae. Everyone else, any other differences, mark you as what they like to call ‘lesser’ faeries.”

I let out a nearly silent sigh, wondering why Cassian felt such a need to taunt her – I understood his anger over what had happened to Feyre, but he knew we had work to do here.

I looked over at Nesta and explained quietly, “It’s become a term used for ease, but masks a long, bloody history of injustices. Many lesser faeries resent the term – and wish for us all to be called one thing.”

“Rightly so,” Cassian agreed, and took a drink from his glass of water.

Nesta turned her gaze to Feyre and examined her, “But you were not High Fae – not to begin. So what do they call you?”

Before Feyre could answer, I interjected quietly, “Feyre is whoever she chooses to be.”

I felt Feyre tense beside me but remained quiet.

Nesta glanced around at all of us then, her eyes pausing once on Feyre’s diadem, before she finally said, “Write your letter to the Queens tonight. Tomorrow, Elain and I will go to the village to dispatch it. If the Queens do come here,” she paused and glared at Cassian, “I’d suggest bracing yourselves for prejudices far deeper than ours. And contemplating how you plan to get us _all_ out of this mess should things go sour.”

“We’ll take that into account,” I answered smoothly.

Nesta continued, coldly, “I assume you’ll want to stay the night.” 

I glanced towards Feyre – it was her family, her choice. She met my gaze, and I could read the thoughts there – she wasn’t happy here, but she had no idea how long she might have left with her sisters. I understood, and gave her a single, subtle nod – I understood, and agreed, we would stay.

“If it’s not too much trouble,” she said, looking back at Nesta, “then yes. We’ll leave after breakfast tomorrow.”

Nesta did not smile or shift her expression at all. However, Elain beamed at her sister, and in that instant, I knew that the cold, simmering rage that I felt towards Nesta, and Feyre’s father for that matter, at how they had abandoned her to darkness and danger, did not apply to Elain. There was something about her, soft faced and gentle, too delicate for this world, that instinctively let me know she would not have survived the way Feyre did. I think perhaps Feyre knew that as well and harbored no anger towards Elaine either.

“Good.” Elaine said, still brightly, “I think there are a few bedrooms ready–“

A thought occurred to me suddenly, that the strain of this meeting might trigger another bad night of nightmares – and I did not want to be doors and hallways from her were that to happen. I knew Feyre would not want to frighten her sisters with powers she had no control over – but to demand one room for just the two of us would have been… unsightly.

I cut in quickly, “We’ll need two, next to each other, with two beds each.”

Feyre looked at me sharply, her brows narrowed in confusion.

I glanced down at her, throwing together an excuse that was not entirely a lie, but was most definitely not the truth. “Magic is different across the wall. So our shields, our senses, might not work right. I’m taking no chances. Especially in a house with a woman betrothed to a man who gave her an iron engagement ring.” 

Feyre tensed, and I saw Elaine flush as she stammered, “The – the bedrooms that have two beds aren’t next to each other.”

Feyre let out a sigh before finally looking away from me and to her sisters, “We’ll move things around. It’s fine. This one,” she added, glancing back at me with a glare, “is only cranky because he’s old and it’s past his bedtime.”

I actually chuckled at that, and even Cassian grinned. Elain looked to Azriel, and the calm look he offered her, eased something in her and she smiled in response.

Nesta however, just rose to her feet and said coldly, “If we’re done eating, then this meal is over.”

And I watched as she marched out of the room, with Elain rising after a minute of hesitation and following after her.

Beside me, Feyre sank back into her chair and let out a long, exhausted sigh.

To my left, I heard Azriel echo it.

I realized then, that we had just survived a battle – only barely.

“Well,” I said to no one in particular, “that was interesting.”

No one replied.

\- - - ~*~ - - - 

Shortly after they had left, Elain returned and bade us follow her to a study where we conferred together on the letter we would send the Queens. Elain did not stay however, and I think Feyre regretted that, watching her leave with eyes that were tired and sad.

I took a seat at the desk with Feyre sitting opposite of me. Cassian and Azriel chose to stand instead as there were no comfortable chairs in the room for them. Azriel stood by the windows, glancing out, and Cassian near the door, as though a sentry. I used a few sheets of blank paper that were left on the desk to scratch out a letter, with Feyre and my brothers pitching in ideas. When we were satisfied with the sound of our message to the Queens, I summoned a sheet of paper with the Night Court emblem at the top and transcribed our letter onto it. I would not seal it with the customary Night Court seal however, in the hopes that it would not be intercepted.

By the time we were finished it was past midnight, and the weariness of the day was taking its toll on me as well. Elain had directed us to where our rooms were earlier, and we made our way to them now, with Cassian and Azriel taking the first room, and us heading a little further down the hall to the second guest room. I opened the door and gestured Feyre inside before me, following after her and shutting the door, then turning to face the room. It was large and luxuriously appointed – and had only one large bed.

I felt Feyre’s apprehension as she stared at the bed, then whirled to look at me, eyes wide, “I’m not-“

She began, but fell short when I snapped my fingers, and across the floor a small, thin mattress, rolled up and buckled with thick leather straps appeared – inside was a small pillow and a wool blanket. I leaned down, undoing the straps and kicked the mattress open with one foot – it wouldn’t be comfortable, the large bed looked far more appealing, but it would be better than the floor – and I would not force Feyre to share with me, no matter how appealing the thought was to share a bed with her.

She continued to stare at me with shock, as I dropped down onto the mattress and began removing my boots, glancing up at her with a smirk, “Nesta is a delight, by the way.” 

Feyre swallowed and backed up to lean against the edge of the bed, “She’s… her own creature.”

I barked a short, humorless laugh, “It’s been a few centuries since someone got under Cassian’s skin that easily. Too bad they’re both inclined to kill the other.”

I sat my first boot aside and began working on the laces of my other, quiet for a moment before I said, “And Elain should not be marrying that Lord’s son, not for about a dozen reasons, the least of which being the fact that you won’t be invited to the wedding.” I let out a sigh as I removed my second boot and sat it next to the first, then glanced up at her and arched a brow, “Though maybe that’s a good thing.” 

She hissed at me, “That’s not funny.”

I rested my arms on my knees and shrugged, “At least you won’t have to send a gift, either. I doubt her father-in-law would deign to accept it.”

She glared at me and her cheeks flushed red in anger, “You have a lot of nerve mocking my sisters when your own friends have equally as much melodrama.”

I arched a brow in silent question, unsure what direction she was going with this.

She snorted, “Oh, so you haven’t noticed the way Azriel looks at Mor? Or how she sometimes watches _him_ , defends him? And how both of them do _such_ a good job letting Cassian be a buffer between them most of the time?” 

I stared at her, impressed at her observations – especially since she had only spent a few days around them all told. “I’d suggest keeping those observations to yourself.”

She crossed her arms, “You think I’m some busybody gossip? My life is miserable enough as it is – why would I want to spread that misery to those around me as well.”

I froze, my heart contracting so tightly I wanted to cry out in pain. Her life… was miserable? I knew she was not exactly happy, but I had hoped that her time at the Night Court, with… us, had at least been an improvement from what she had faced at the Spring Court. 

I swallowed, and asked her quietly, “Is it miserable? Your life, I mean.”

She stared at me for a moment, then looked away, “I don’t know. Everything is happening so quickly that I don’t know what to feel.”

An almost answer – but she had left room for something positive in there. I had been pushing her hard – out of selfishness, yes, but also out of desperation. I had come so close to losing her, had felt her slipping away day by day, that I wanted her, needed her to push herself, so I had pushed her in turn. Perhaps she needed a break, a chance to catch her breath and re-evaluate everything. I could give her that… but not quite yet. We still had work to do here, and some of it she knew nothing about. The guilt hit me again, but I held it down, I couldn’t let it dictate my decisions.

“Hmm. Perhaps once we return home, I should give you the day off.”

She rolled her eyes, “How considerate of you, _my Lord.”_

I snorted – I was not her Lord; I was not her anything. Maybe… maybe we were becoming friends, slowly, painfully, but I would not even put claim to that yet. Sighing, I reached up and began to unbutton my jacket when I noticed her glance around and then at herself – she hadn’t brought any clothes, hadn’t even considered the possibility that we might stay here, and she didn’t have enough control over her gifts to access a pocket realm yet. I had planned for the possibility however; I had guessed that faced with the option of spending time with her family – despite everything they had done to her – she would take it. Though I hadn’t expected her family to be quite so… difficult.

I snapped my fingers, and on her bed appeared night clothes… and a few pieces of flimsy under things I couldn’t resist taking. She looked at me with shock and embarrassment, and I grinned at her playfully, “I couldn’t decide which scrap of lace I wanted you to wear, so I brought you a few to choose from.”

“Pig,” she snapped and grabbed up all of the clothes and stomped off towards the bathing room. I watched her go, still grinning and trying very, very hard not to think of her in those lacy under things.

I failed.

Completely.

My skin felt hot and tight as the images flashed through my mind, and I knew instinctively that if I saw her when she came back out, if I looked at her even once, I would do something I would regret. Letting out a low sigh, I stood up and walked over to the fire place against one wall, crouching down in front of it. This time I did not summon my darkness up, but rather tapped into the Illyrian magic inside of me that I really only used to fuel my darkness – unlike my brothers however, I could channel my Illyrian magic without the aid of a Siphon. I spun it out in delicate strands, twisting it tightly until it warmed and then cast it into the hearth, watch it curve and curl around the wood placed there, setting it on fire. Standing up, I took what remained of that warm, twisted tendrils of magic, and turning, I brushed them over the large bed, letting the warmth sink down through the sheets and the mattress, then finally released the magic back into the pool of it deep inside me. 

Sliding my jacket off I draped it over the arm of a nearby chair, then walked back to my small mattress and sank down on it, stretching out over it and then rolled over – facing away from the bed and the door she had gone through. I dragged the blanket over myself and folded the pillow in half to give it some height and let out another quiet sigh as I imagined the bed behind me – large and soft… and soon to be full of her.

_Damnit_.

It was frustrating that my mind kept returning to her in this manner, kept curling around her sexually when I wasn’t even entirely sure if I was ready for something like that. The memory I had re-lived yesterday was proof enough that my mind had not recovered from the torture Amarantha had put me through. How could I even consider doing anything with Feyre?

Not that it mattered though. Feyre did not want me, she did not love me, she was _not_ mine.

I still wanted her.

I growled quietly in frustration.

Minutes later, the bathroom door opened, a flash of light across the wall, and then it closed, leaving the room in darkness again. I heard her footsteps, whisper quiet across the floor, and the sound of the bed shift and creak gently as she climbed into it, the blankets rustling as she pulled them over herself.

“Thank you for warming the bed,” she said quietly, her earlier embarrassment and annoyance faded.

I’m not sure what made me say it, perhaps just because of my earlier thoughts, “Amarantha never once thanked me for that.”

Silence.

“She didn’t suffer enough.” Her words were icy with hatred, and yet hot with simmering rage, and beneath it all, that same sympathy that had shone from her eyes just yesterday.

A shiver ran down my spine and I swallowed back the emotions that threatened to drown me.

I had to distract myself, and her – because I could feel her power blossoming inside of her and had to put a damper on it before it went out of hand.

“I didn’t think I could get through that dinner.”

I heard her shift in bed, guessing that she rolled to face me because I soon felt her gaze touching along my back. “What do you mean?”

I was quiet a moment, thinking back to how Feyre had looked at Calanmai, the first time I saw her. Young and frightened, but without the dark horror of the Mountain to burden her soul – she had seemed so young then. I tried to imagine her younger, a child of fourteen, taking to the woods in desperation… “Your sisters mean well, or one of them does. But seeing them, sitting at that table… I hadn’t realized it would hit me as strongly. How young you were. How they didn’t protect you.”

I felt her tense, even from across the room, and her voice was tight, “I managed just fine.”

Of course she did – that was who she was, what she was. Someone who faced insurmountable odds and did not back down, who took them on whether or not she was prepared or equipped to handle them and did not become discouraged when her success could only be measured in mere inches. She was brave and brilliant and so strong…

“We owe them our gratitude for letting us use this house,” I said quietly, “but it will be a long while yet before I can look at your sisters without wanting to roar at them.”

She was quiet for several heart beats, then said calmly, as though the realization had just come to her and she had accepted the truth of it in her soul. “A part of me feels the same way, but if I hadn’t gone into those woods, if they hadn’t let me go out there alone… You would still be enslaved. And perhaps Amarantha would now be readying her forces to wipe out these lands.”

Silence. In my head, and my heart… she was right, entirely right – and in a way it only made me angrier. Because I would have rather suffered beneath Amarantha for the rest of eternity than have Feyre suffer even one second Under the Mountain, and yet… Feyre’s actions did not just save my people, they might have saved hers as well, if we could succeed against Hybern. Feyre Cursebreaker, the Savior of Prythian and the realms of Man.

I smiled ruefully, “I am paying you a wage, you know. For all of this.” 

She was quiet, then almost stuttered, “You don’t need to.”

I smiled wider now, “Every member of my court receives one. There’s already a bank account in Velaris for you, where your wages will be deposited.” I knew that wouldn’t go over well, but with a grin I continued, “And you have lines of credit at most stores. So if you don’t have enough when you’re shopping, you can have the bill sent to the House.”

I could feel the shock and the waves of uncertainty wash from her – she did not handle generosity well, especially not in such direct methods. “I-“she swallowed and tried again, “you didn’t have to do that.” A pause, then a quiet, curious voice, “And how much, exactly, am I getting paid each month?”

I thought about telling her and knew without a doubt the amount would send her flying out of bed with shock and disbelief. It would have been amusing to witness, but… another idea occurred to me, and the answer was more important than teasing her. “The same amount the others receive.” Then shifting slightly, I risked a glance at her out of the corner of my eye, “When is your birthday?”

“Do I even need to count them anymore?” She asked with a touch of ice. I didn’t answer, and she let out a sigh, “It’s the Winter Solstice.”

My body froze for an instant with shock – that was not the answer I expected. The Winter Solstice? The longest night of the year? The holiday was one of the most important holidays in my Court, a celebration of one of our most valuable resources – our glorious night sky. And yet… it was months ago, back before she had come to the Night Court, back before her almost-wedding even. 

“That was months ago.”

She agreed, sounding almost sleepy now, “Mmmhmm.”

I hesitated, then said, “You didn’t… I don’t remember seeing you celebrate it.”

I could almost feel her frown of disapproval, that I had once had free access to her mind – though I had rarely used that access. “I didn’t tell anyone,” she explained. “I didn’t want a party when there was already all that celebrating going on. Birthdays seem meaningless now, anyway.”

And that filled me with such sadness, because they weren’t, and most especially not hers – it didn’t matter if she lived forever, every year of her life was valuable and precious and I would never, could never take them for granted.

“You were truly born on the Winter Solstice?” I asked after a few minutes of quiet between us.

“Is that so hard to believe?” She asked me curiously, “My mother claimed I was so withdrawn and strange because I was born on the longest night of the year. She tried one year to have my birthday on another day, but forgot to do it the next time – there was probably a more advantageous party she had to plan.”

I frowned again, a part of me thinking about the similarities between her mother and Tamlin – displeased with who she was, they had tried to ignore or change those things about her that made her unique and radiant. Another part of my mind was wondering what she had been like as a child, before she had lost her mother, and her father had lost their fortune, and she was forced to face the woods or watch her family starve. _Withdrawn and strange_ … I wonder if that translated to quiet and observant, and it dawned on me how Feyre was like the night sky – dark and beautiful, quiet and watchful… and so entirely out of reach, especially by me.

I wanted to laugh, and perhaps cry. I said instead, “Now I know where Nesta gets it. Honestly, it’s a shame we can’t stay longer – if only to see who’ll be left standing: her or Cassian.”

I heard her shift in bed, as though rolling onto her back, and she said with amusement, “My money’s on Nesta.”

I let out a low chuckle, “So’s mine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This endeavor is my first ever fanfiction attempt, and it has been a blast to play with so far.
> 
> I would love to see your comments about what I'm writing!
> 
> So please hit me up with what you think! - Otter


	3. Bait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: If you have not read A Court of Mist and Fury by Sarah J. Maas I strongly suggest you go read it first - it's undoubtedly better written and what I have written will spoil the book for you.
> 
> I am re-writing all of ACOMAF from Rhysand's perspective, using all of the original characters/scenes/dialogue, and adding in new bits and bobs to flesh his story out more.
> 
> This Section:  
> Ch. 1 - Rhysand buys jewelry for Feyre and makes plans (New scene)  
> Ch. 2 - Rhysand meets the Archeron sisters for the first time  
> Ch. 3 - Feyre tries to train but is attacked by the Attor (Partial new scene)  
> Ch. 4 - Escorting the sisters to mail the letter, and questioning the Attor (Partial new scene)  
> Ch. 5 - A night out on the town - dinner in Velaris  
> Ch. 6 - Feyre trains with Cassian, then trains her magic with Rhysand (Partial new scene)  
> Ch. 7 - A night at the club, a plan to visit the Summer Court, lunch with Feyre and a night playing cards at the bar (Several new scenes)
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> *Disclaimer - I do not take credit for the any of the characters or the world created by Sarah J. Maas.

I woke the next morning before Feyre – early mornings were now my thing it would seem. I rolled onto my back with a low groan, my body sore from the thin mattress – I was getting too old for such things. Letting out a sigh, I pushed myself up into a sitting position, reaching up to ruffle my hair and then froze… and realized that Feyre and I had shared a room together, and neither of us had a nightmare – I had in fact slept deeply and felt rested for once - and that she was still asleep in the bed across from me… Before my next thought could process, I had stood and was staring at her – a long wanted desire fulfilled, to see her sleeping peacefully.

She was… she was breath taking, she quite literally stole the breath from my lungs, and every inch of me ached with the desire to touch her. I realized then that some of her outward shine had come back, mimicking the radiance inside of her. Her skin glowed faintly, her brown-gold hair was becoming shiny once again, her lips were no longer so pale and thin, but full and parted and tantalizing. The dark shadows under her eyes had turned light purple, fading around the edges – the only thing really harkening back to how bad she had looked when she arrived at the Night Court was that she was still far too thin. Repairing that would take longer, but already I could see improvement – the bones of her hands and wrists were not as prominent, and her collarbones did not jut out as sharply, her face was more rounded, looking similar to Elain’s.

I swallowed hard and felt within me a simmering fire – not of rage or anger, but desire, and there was no darkness tied to it. No horror or shame or guilt over what Amarantha had done to me, just pure, sweet desire for this woman, my Mate… my love. I knew suddenly that I had to look away, had to get away, put at least a little distance between us – just long enough to get my control back. I forced myself to take a step, then two, crossing the room. I opened the door to the bathroom and stepped inside, shutting it behind me and leaning back against it. My head rolled back with a soft thud against the solid wood and I let out a groan. She was going to be the absolute death of me – it was bad enough before, the soul churning panic when I felt her dying, both Under the Mountain and then after, but now this. Desire. How was I going to stay away? How was I going to give her time and space… With a sudden jolt I realized that my thoughts had shifted in their tenor. Before I had steadfastly told myself that she wanted nothing to do with me, that I would only be a burden, that there would never be anything between us. And now I was asking myself how to stay away, instead of telling myself I would.

_Mother save me_ …

I realized with such overwhelming pain and relief that I had lost the war. The answer to my question was that I wouldn’t be able to stay away – I might be able to slow my approach, but that I would eventually topple before her. My Feyre… I could only pray that when my inevitable fall happened, she would not walk past me and leave me in the dirt at her feet.

I was pulled out of my thoughts by a shift on the bed, a long sigh, and then quietly, tentatively, “Rhysand?”

My heart constricted tightly, and a shiver ran through me, her voice dancing over my skin, and my name… I exhaled slowly, reached up to rub my eyes, then stood and opened the door, stepping out into the bedroom. She jumped a little when the door opened, as though she had not considered that I might be in here, and I offered her a small smirk in order to mask the pounding of my heart. “Good morning Feyre darling.”

She scowled at me a little, but sat up, her messy bed-hair tumbling over her shoulders, “Are you done?” She jerked her chin towards the door behind me.

I smirked a little more, but bowed to her with a flourish, “It’s yours my dear. I’ll head downstairs to give you some privacy.” Crossing the room towards where my jacket was, I paused at her next question, glancing over at her.

“We’re not leaving until after breakfast?” 

A nod, “Yes, we’ll see your sisters safely to the village and back, then we’ll leave.”

She hesitated then said, “Instead of going down to breakfast first…” My heart started pounding with fresh fervor, “I want to try practicing. With my powers.”

 

Ok, so it wasn’t exactly the direction I was hoping she would go… but it was still a good direction. I arched a brow at her and grinned, “Well I’ll regret missing the sight of Cassian and Nesta sparring, but this will be fun too.”

I snapped my fingers, and across the bed a set of her Illyrian leathers appeared, and on the floor, her boots. The snap of my fingers had also replaced my disheveled town clothes that I had worn to bed last night, with the Illyrian leathers I had first worn while we traveled here. I gestured to the leathers on her bed, “Go ahead and get changed, I’m going to go let Cassian and Azriel know.”

I quickly strode for the bedroom door and made my way down the hall, stopping before the other guest room door and knocked. It opened and Cassian blinked at me with sleep and shock. “What’s wrong?” He asked, looking past me into the hall.

I arched a brow, “Nothing. Why?”

“Because it’s damn early,” he responded with a grumble. 

I chuckled, “No rest for the wicked brother. Invite me in?”

He sighed and opened the door further, gesturing me inside. This room, just as lavish as ours, but sported two, smaller beds, the first one empty, and on the second Azriel perched, watching me – his shadows once against swirling around him.

Cassian shut the door and turned, his back to it, crossing his arms and his brows furrowed as he studied me.

“What’s going on Rhys?”

I looked at him, a little confused at the tone of his voice – worried and a touch relieved, “What do you mean?” 

Azriel coughed and I glanced at him, arching a brow, he shrugged and did not reveal the nature of Cassian’s question.

“Well you’re up at dawn, dressed in leathers, and looking…” He trailed off.

I folded my arms across my chest, mimicking his pose, “Looking like what?”

Azriel piped up, “Like you did before the War.”

Well. That brought me up short. I didn’t even know how to respond to that. I glanced between the two of them, and let out a sigh, “I’m sorry for waking you early – Feyre woke up and suggested that we go train instead of going down for breakfast. That is why I am dressed in leathers. It’s also too good of an opportunity to pass up for a chance to leave her alone long enough to try and catch a stalker.”

Cassian’s entire demeanor shifted from vague amusement, to a dark storm cloud of displeasure – he _really_ did not like this plan.

Neither did I.

I looked at Azriel, “So I need you up and ready to assist, and Cassian I need you prepared to defend her sisters if everything goes to hell.”

Azriel nodded, “I’ll be ready in a few minutes, just send word when you need me.”

Cassian only said, “This is a bad idea Rhys.”

And then there was a knock at the door.

I ignored Cassian’s comment and nodded to the door, he sighed and turned to open it, glancing around the door to see it was Feyre and said with more warmth than he had shown me not even a minute ago, “Mornin’ Feyre.”

She coughed and asked, “Is Rhysand there?”

I nodded to Azriel, then walked past Cassian and smiled at Feyre, “Ready?”

She nodded and I extended a hand to her, she took it and again that electric sensation arched through my hand, down my arm and through my entire body. She stepped up close to me and I wrapped my arms around her, and as I wrapped us in darkness and began to winnow away, I heard Cassian let out a deep sigh behind me.

\- - - ~*~ - - - 

The forests here were miserable – not just the cold that seeped through every inch of me, far more cutting than even the worst winters up north, but the wood’s themselves felt… wrong. Cold, abandoned, lifeless – like all warmth and purpose had been drained out of them. 

I had winnowed us to the edge of the property, and we had begun our trek through the forest, slow and tedious – but I was not opposed to spending the time alone with her, no matter the environment and wondered that the frozen forest didn’t burn with the occasional thoughts that ran through my mind.

“Freezing my ass off first thing in the morning isn’t how I intended to spend our day off,” I said to her when the silence had lengthened for longer than I liked. “I should take you to the Illyrian Steppes when we return – the forest there is far more interesting. And warmer.”

“I have no idea where that is,” she responded, panting a little with the excursion – she was still rebuilding her strength. “You showed me a blank map that one time, remember?”

I shrugged, “Precautions.”

She glanced at me and frowned, “Am I ever going to see a proper one, or will I be left to guess about where everything is?”

I let out a short laugh, “You’re in a lovely mood today.”

Raising my hand, I reached to my pocket realm, and a second later a folded map appeared in my hand. I began to open it, teasing her lightly, “Lest you think I don’t trust you, Feyre darling…” I pointed on the map to a mountain range just south of the Northern Isles, “These are the Steppes. Four days that way on foot,” I dragged my finger along the line, “will take you into Illyrian territory.”

I turned my head to watch her examining the map and saw a look of guilt and fury war its way across her face, and I tilted my head. I thought back to when the last time I had showed her a map and it had been blank, and the next time I had gone to collect her and I had heard her conversation with Tamlin through the door and I knew she had told him about what we had talked about – I had guessed then that it was likely she had told him everything about her time spent in the Night Court. It wasn’t unsurprising really, and I held no anger at her for it, but I wondered if she felt guilt over it – but it was the fury that confused me. I thought about asking her… but there was another reason for this trek out here and the longer I held out the less likely an attempt would be made.

“Here,” I said, and folded the map, pocketing it before gesturing to the forest around us. “We’ll train here. We’re far enough now.”

I reached for my pocket realm again and summoned forth a thick candle, gripping it in my palm before I leaned down and set it on the snow ground. Feyre glanced at it, then at me as I gestured, “Light it, douse it with water, and dry the wick.” 

She crossed her arms and eyed me, “I can’t do a single one of those things. What about physical shielding?”

I smirked a little, “That’s for another time. Today, I suggest you start trying some _other_ facet of your power. What about shape-shifting?”

She glared at me, and snapped, “Fire, water, and air it is.”

Her anger hit me, and it dawned on me why she was angry, and it hadn’t dawned on me to think that shape-shifting might be something she had no interest in trying out, and why. I cursed myself mentally – she still needed to learn how to control that power, but right now, so close to the Spring Court, I could understand her anger over being reminded about it. I didn’t push her on it and just crossed my arms, watching her and waiting for her to try – and waiting for what I knew would come next.

In some ways, Feyre was extremely predictable.

She looked me over, head to toe – a glance I thoroughly enjoyed – and then she said, “Maybe you should… go.”

Of course she wanted me to leave – she hadn’t wanted me to teach her how to read, hadn’t wanted to even try in front of me. While I praised myself for knowing her well enough to know this would happen, I also ached with the wish that should trust me enough to know I would never, never judge her or laugh at her – not for this, not for trying. 

“Why? You seemed so insistent that _I_ train you.”

She shifted on her feet, and her cheeks – already tinged with pink from the cold – darkened slightly, “I can’t concentrate with you around,” she admitted. “And go… far. I can feel you from a room away.”

My heart thudded hard in my chest at her words, words I had _never_ expected to hear from her, and couldn’t entirely believe I was hearing now. I couldn’t help the playful smile that curved my lips as I drank her in.

She rolled her eyes, trying to cover her embarrassment, “Why don’t you just hide in one of those pocket realms for a bit.”

I smirked, “It doesn’t work like that. There’s no air there.” She gave me such a withering look that I knew her thoughts were – _then you should definitely do it._

I laughed, “Fine. Practice all you want in privacy.” I hesitated and then dared to be bold enough, and jerked my chin at her tattoo, “Give a shout down the bond if you get anything accomplished before breakfast.” I wanted her to start examining the bond between us, maybe… maybe it would click for her, that it was more than just a silly bargain.

She lifted her hand however, and frowned at the tattoo, “What – literally shout at the tattoo?”

I grinned at her wickedly, and leaned forward a little, meeting her gaze and said with a husky, playful voice, “You could try rubbing it on certain body parts and I might come faster.”

The embarrassed rage on her face was _delightful._ Laughing, I winnowed away before she could attack me – though where I had stood, I left a pack for her, containing a thermos of hot tea and fresh bread, in case she got hungry before she was willing to pack it in.

I arrived back in the chateau, landing in the great hall, and shifted my clothing yet again – sometimes it became tiring having to do this multiple times in a day, but my clothing was another form of armor, and looking poised and well-dressed could win as many battles as a well-honed blade. I hid my wings with a touch of darkness, and then made my way towards the agitated voices, coming to stand in the doorway of the sitting room I had spied Feyre and her sisters in yesterday.

Azriel was standing near a window, staring out at the snow-covered grounds, his face having a faraway look to it. Elain was sitting surprisingly close to him, and her face was pale and pinched as she observed Cassian and Nesta arguing back and forth. I let out a low sigh and crossed into the room, nodding to Azriel who met my gaze for a moment before looking back outside – likely listening to the shadows of the forest for any advanced warning of an attack on Feyre. Elain managed to give me a timid smile, and once again I was struck by the fact that, unlike Nesta, I simply couldn’t remain angry at her in the same way.

Cassian glanced at me, his eyes amused and frustrated, and I knew instantly that part of his reason for arguing with Nesta was due to his need to distract himself from his dislike of the plan we were following now. I winced inside, I had a feeling Cassian might in fact kick my ass after we returned home from this – whether or not Feyre was attacked. Well, I wouldn’t disagree if he decided to.

Sighing, I skirted around the two of them and sat in a chair near Elain, a low table in front of us with a tray of tea and a few plates of food, with smaller plates and silverware arranged next to them. I leaned forward and poured myself a cup of tea, adding a spoonful of sugar, then leaned back and took a sip.

“Are you seriously complaining about how I stirred my tea?” Cassian was asking Nesta.

She glared at him, and there was cold fury in her gaze, “There was no need for you to be that obnoxious about it.”

Elain swallowed and I glanced at her, deciding to be merciful and perhaps build at least thread of mutual respect with one of Feyre’s sisters. “Feyre told me that you love to garden.” 

She hadn’t of course, Feyre hadn’t told me anything about her sisters, her home or her past. I had seen it in her mind more than once however and had seen how gentle Feyre’s thoughts were towards Elain, even when she was frustrated with her. 

Elain met my gaze and managed another smile, “She did? Yes - Yes I have always loved to garden.” She paused, glancing back at Nesta for a moment, then said, “Back when… when father had lost our fortune, and we were living in… in our former home, Feyre bought me seeds. We didn’t really have the money, but she saved up some copper pennies and bought me a few. I kept a small flower box outside the front window.” She unclenched her hands and folded them in her lap, her smile growing a little more genuine, “When we moved here, I brought the flowers with me.” 

I knew with certainty that Feyre did not know this and my heart ached a little. Yes, they had failed her, but they had, or at least Elain had, loved her younger sister. She had brought a piece of her to this house, tucked her away somewhere safe where she could care for her in the only way she knew how to – through gardening. It didn’t make up for all the years Feyre had faced danger to feed them, it did not make up for all the danger she now faced to save them… but it was something.

I smiled at her, with unfeigned kindness, “It’s a shame that there is too much snow, I would have liked to see your garden.”

“Oh, that’s rich,” Nesta snapped at Cassian, “You’re going to lecture _me_ on proper etiquette? I’m surprised you even know the word.”

Cassian grinned, “Oh yes, I can even spell it – barbarian bastard that I am. Do you know the word, ‘hospitality’?”

Elain flushed in pleasure at my comment, then hesitated, “Do you think that you will be done with…” she gestured with one hand, the iron ring on it glinting dully in the sunlight, “everything, before the spring?" 

I took a breath and let it out slowly, glancing at Cassian once to see his smirk as he toyed with Nesta.

“If I had it my way, we would be done with this tomorrow, but I have a suspicion it will not go that smoothly. Though if it takes until spring, we may have to attempt another method.”

She swallowed, “Is Hybern that dangerous then?”

Azriel shifted, glancing over at us briefly.

I wasn’t sure how best to answer her – the truth or the kindness of a lie. I studied her eyes, warm and brown, reminding me of Mor’s. Morrigan. Truth.

“Yes,” I told her quietly. “They are, but we’re not without options.”

The room had grown quiet suddenly, and I glanced up to see Nesta’s glare fixed on me. Her eyes narrowed and she asked suddenly, “And will the powerful High Lord fight, if it comes to it?”

Both Azriel and Cassian stiffened, and Elain looked at Nesta with wide eyes, “Nesta!”

I heard the challenge in her voice, and the distrust, and it riled something in me. Smiling coolly, I leaned forward to set my tea cup on the table in front of me and then folded my hands together as I met and held her frigid gaze, “I fought in the last War, we all did,” I gestured to Cassian and Azriel. “You do not know me of course, you don’t even know my people, so it’s understandable that you might question my motives. I did not come here to stand on the side lines – I could have sent Feyre and these two as my advocates, but I am here, because I fight alongside my people, my friends, and my family.” 

I continued to hold her gaze, all traces of a smile wiped off of my face, “However, it is unforgiveable that you continue question your sister’s intentions, especially in light of the fact of what she has given for you time and again.”

A moment of confusion flittered across her eyes – so fast I almost missed it; it was quickly replaced by rage.

“Your sister is now fae,” I continued coldly, “but if you think that becoming fae has made her suddenly forget what it was to be human, you are sorely mistaken. If you think becoming fae means she no longer cares for a people that were once her own, for the family she still loves, you are sorely mistaken. And if you think for one second she would bring a group of fae, a High Lord included, into her family’s home who had no intention of helping her family and her former people, you are not just sorely mistaken, you are by far the stupidest mortal I have ever met.” 

Nesta’s head snapped up as though I had hit her and she stood, her hands clenching into fists, “How dare-“

Elain stood suddenly, and crossed over to stand in front of Nesta, blocking her view of me. “Nesta, leave it,” she said sharply, surprising all of us – there was strength in her voice, and undeniable will, and where it had come from, I had no idea.

“Let’s go get ready to go to town,” Elain told her calmly. 

I could feel Nesta’s eyes boring a hole through her sister into me, but she finally relented and stalked out of the room, leaving behind a rage that continued to saturate the air even after she was gone. Elain glanced back at me, her brown eyes gone dark with emotion, and then retreated after her sister. 

Cassian let out a low breath, “And I thought she was pissed off at me. Damn Rhys, aren’t you supposed to be the diplomatic one?”

I shrugged and felt no remorse at all. Glancing at Azriel, he had a hint of a grin on his lips, still looking out the window.

“Any sign?” I asked him.

He shook his head, “Nothing yet.”

I sighed and glanced at the clock, growing impatient, and more anxious the longer we waited. I summoned a sheet of paper, and a pen, then leaned down and wrote a quick message:

_I’m bored. Any sparks yet?_

I wove a thread of darkness through the page so that any changes made to it I would feel, then folded it and winnowed it and the pen into the pack I had left behind for Feyre.

I wasn’t sure that she would see it or when, or even respond, but perhaps…

I was surprised to feel her writing on the page almost instantly – when the pen stopped moving, I winnowed the note back to the table in front of me, leaning forward to read:

_No, you snoop. Don’t you have important things to do?_

Cassian was looking at me, a brow arched. I just shook my head, smiling slightly and summoned another pen. I wrote back, drawing from what had happened prior to the tongue lashing I had just given her sister, and teased her a little:

_I’m watching Cassian and Nesta get into it again over their tea. Something you subjected me to when you kicked me off training. I thought this was our day off._

I sent it off to her and waited again, rolling the pen between my fingers. It came back and I read quietly, laughing suddenly:

_Poor baby High Lord. Life is so hard._

Cassian, unable to stand it any longer, stood and walked over to read the note, and then snorted with laughter. “You should tell her that’s not the only thing that is-“

He cut off suddenly when my entire body went rigid as I felt her terror as she was grabbed, and how she began to thrash and fight against whoever had her.

“Azriel!” I yelled, even as I pulled the darkness around me and winnowed instantly to her.

As I arrived, I let the darkness in me explode outwards, making it impossible for either of them to see and as her attacker screamed in terror, I recognized who it was.

The Attor.

Nearly mindless rage threatened to overwhelm me, but I held it in check, just barely. I reached out, grabbing hold of Feyre and pulled her from his arms roughly, twisting and letting go of her behind me – I _had_ to subdue the Attor before he could escape. With her out of immediate danger I twisted the darkness into tight cords and swirled them around him and used them to shove him back against a tree, pinning him there. As I held him, I pulled the swallowing darkness back inside myself, allowing Feyre to see again.

I glanced back at her briefly, looking her from head to toe for damage, finding her unharmed and in a crouch with a dagger in hand.

_Good girl._

I returned my attention to the Attor, and sliding my hands into my pockets, said with more calmness than I felt, “I’d been wondering where you slithered off to.”

The Attor panted as he struggled against his bonds.

Without moving from my casual pose I twisted more of my darkness into spears and slammed them hard through his wings, listening to him shriek in pain as the spears pinned his wings to the tree behind him. One part of my mind fretted at Feyre seeing me like this – the cruel High Lord who tortured and maimed for pleasure and prayed that she would remember everything else she had seen, and that these next few minutes would not ruin all the progress between us. Another part of my mind _delighted_ in the knowledge that it was the Attor I had caught – that I could pay him back for every evil moment of his worthless, sadistic existence.

“Answer my questions, and you can crawl back to your master,” I purred to him quietly. I could have reached into his mind and taken the answers – but I decided to ask out loud so that Feyre would have answers as well.

He panted and spat at me, “Whore.”

I felt Feyre tense behind me at the word, and I wanted to snarl at him.

Instead I took one hand from a pocket, “You forget that I rather enjoy these things.”

Then I lifted a single finger.

“ _No!_ ” He screamed, trembling, his eyes locked on my finger. “I was sent,” he panted, “to get her.”

Even though it was what I expected, my rage surged forward until I could taste it on my tongue, thick and heavy, “Why?”

“That was my order,” he hissed, “I am not to question. The King wants her.”

With a grim smile, I asked him again quietly, “Why?” Then I dug my mental claws deep into his mind, clenching down on his mind – holding back just enough to do no permanent damage. Probably.

He screamed and screamed and thrashed against the tree despite the damage it did to his pinned wings.

_“Don’t know, don’t know, don’t know.”_ He chanted between his desperate screams; and he didn’t, he had been given and order and simply obeyed, the wretch.

I released his mind slightly, letting him sag and pant heavily. 

“Where is the King currently?”

He trembled, “Hybern.” I saw flashes of the castle in his mind.

“Army?” He tried to resist mentally but I dug my claws in a little more and began getting flashes of the fae and weapons he had seen.

“Endless.” He whispered, his black eyes glaring daggers at me, “We have allies in every territory, all waiting.” Further images came to me – camps of fae going on for miles, ships and weapons – the sight of it almost overwhelming.

I tilted my head, considering him – but then straightened as I heard the beat of wings and felt Azriel land hard in the snow behind me. I didn’t look away from the Attor but reached out to brush my mind across his and felt his thoughts reach out to me: _the rest of the forest is clear; her sisters are secure._

I pulled back from his mind and turned, walking back to Feyre’s side as Azriel stalked forward towards the Attor who began shaking harder. I looked her over again, ensuring she wasn’t hurt, then turned once more and looked back towards him, “The next time you try to take her, I kill first; ask questions later.”

Azriel met my gaze and I nodded once - confirmation he was to take the Attor back to Hewn city for further questioning. His Siphons flared brilliantly, like blazing blue flame, and he reached out, grabbing the Attor – and before the Attor could scream, they both disappeared. My ropes and spears of darkness hovered in place for a second then faded as I drew the darkness back inside of myself – Azriel will have secured the Attor with his own restraints during transport.

“Will he kill him?” Feyre asked me quietly, her breathing quick and a little uneven.

I took a breath and let it out slowly, trying to calm my rage, and settle the darkness swirling through me.

“No,” I replied. “We’ll use him to send a message to Hybern that if they want to hunt the members of my court, they’ll have to do better than that.” It was a bold statement to make, to claim her as such – I had told her once, that she was subject to no one, and that remained true, she was not my subject… but I saw her as part of my court, in a way that was unique only to her.

I felt her stiffen beside me and looked down to see the emotions flashing across her face – anger, fear, frustration… she settled on anger. “You knew – you knew he was hunting me?”

“I was curious who wanted to snatch you the first moment you were alone.”

Her breathing quickened, “So you never planned to stay with me while I trained. You used me as _bait-_ “

I kept my face blank, trying to calm my pounding heart. “Yes, and I’d do it again. You were safe the entire time.”

Pure rage suffused her face as she yelled at me, her hands clenching tightly into fists, “ _You should have told me!”_

I smirked a tiny bit, a part of me wanting to push her – to see what would happen if she let herself go, let that power inside of her explode out.

“Maybe next time.”

“ _There will be no next time!”_ And she slammed a hand into my chest, shoving me backwards several steps – and damn if it didn’t hurt. I was shocked and delighted – I had _felt_ her strength, that power flowing through her.

Her reaction however was to freeze and stare down at her hand, like she didn’t recognize it. Like she had forgotten that she was strong and powerful.

I took a step towards her, “Yes, you did,” and snarled at her with anger fueled by months of frustration and terror at nearly losing her, “You forgot that strength, and that you can burn and become darkness, and grow claws. You _forgot._ ” I spoke through gritted teeth, “ _You stopped fighting.”_

We were both breathing hard, our hands clenched into fists and I watched as her face tightened with rage and could feel the bond between us pull tight as her emotions ran hard and fast through her.

“So what if I did?” She hissed and reached out, shoving me again, hard, and with both hands this time. “So _what_ if I did?”

And I heard the pain in her voice, and my rage drained away instantly – but I wasn’t going to try and comfort her. She _needed_ to let this out, like draining a wound, she needed to get this pain and anger and frustration out of her system, and she needed to _fight._ And I was more than willing to be her victim… if she could catch me.

She went to shove me again, and I winnowed a few a few feet back.

She charged for me, yelling at me, “It’s not easy!” Her arms lifting to shove at me again.

I winnowed around directly behind her and whispered, nearly in her ear, “You have no idea how _not_ easy it is.”  _Play with me Feyre…_ I thought, the same old thought I used to have when I was trying to draw out a little life in her.

She whirled on me, panting with her rage and grabbed for me.

I winnowed before she could even reach for me, pulling back across the clearing. I smirked at her tauntingly and chuckled, “Try harder.”

She stood staring at me, gasping for breath, her hands curled into claws – but still normal fingers, no actual claws at the tip. She was holding back, even now; I had to push her, just a little further…

I winnowed around to her side, closer to her and she whirled and pounced for me – her hands stretching out… and ending in _talons_. Finally. My breathing caught, even as I winnowed away yet again, and she plowed face first into the tree behind where I had been, her talons digging into the wood, shredding the bark.

I let out a laugh as I appeared to her side - _come on Feyre, let it go, let it out…_

She whirled again, lunging for me as I began to winnow again, and I felt it – through our bond I felt it – the moment she let it all go, all of her reservations and fear and self-doubt, she let it all go and _exploded_.

And even before I landed in a new spot in the clearing, she vanished, and as my feet touched the snow laden ground, I watched her appear in front of me – and could not stop myself from grinning with wicked delight as she tackled into me, slamming me down into the ground hard.

I let out a long, breathlessly relieved laugh as she sprawled on top of me… _Oh Feyre, my beautiful Feyre, you did it!_

She panted hard, “ _Don’t,”_ and snarled at me viciously, “ _ever,”_ and she pushed hard into my shoulders, pinning me against the ground, her talons digging into my leathers, “ _use me as bait again.”_

I stopped laughing – not out of fear, or least not out of fear of her hurting me, she was still untrained, and I was confident I could contain her if need be. I stopped laughing partially because she stole the breath away from me – she was just so damn beautiful, breathtakingly radiant, even as her face was twisted up in rage, nearly unrecognizable from her usual restrained appearance. There was fear though – fear that I might have pushed her too far – each time I had thought that before, she had held together, but this time might have been the one time…

She dug her claws harder into me, the tips pushing past the leather and pricking my skin beneath, and she said with a voice gone quiet and cold, “You said I could be a weapon – teach me to become one. _Don’t_ use me like a pawn.” Her face lowered towards mine, until I could have easily kissed her if I had not been frozen in place by the fury in her eyes, “And if being one is part of my _work_ for you, then I’m done. _Done._ ”

I stared up at her, my heart hammering in my chest – the fear having grown and changed – she wasn’t going to break, but if I pushed her further, she might leave… _Don’t go Feyre, I just found you…_

I nodded once, “Fair enough.”

She shoved off of me, standing up and pulling away from me – reminding me of her early days around me when she did not want to be anywhere close to me.

I stayed on the ground, but hoisted myself up on my elbows, and tried, carefully, to get her to push her powers again, to play with them. “Do it again. Show me how you did it.”

“No.” She wrapped her arms around herself, still pissed, but now looking cold and tired. “I want to go back to the chateau.”

I frowned slightly; guilt riding high in me. Cassian had been right, why hadn’t I listened? Because I was an arrogant prick, that was why.

I met her gaze and said quietly, “I’m sorry.”

She didn’t respond, just waited. 

I stood up slowly and dusted snow off of myself, before lifting my hand to her – her choice, always.

She stared at me, then asked quietly, “Why does the King of Hybern want me? Because he knows I can nullify the Cauldron’s power with the Book?”

Anger flared in me, my darkness thrumming to life in my veins again, but I answered her calmly, “That’s what I’m going to find out.”

Still she did not approach me, did not take my hand. “I’m sorry,” I repeated to her, meaning it with all my heart. “Let’s eat breakfast, then go home.”

“Velaris isn’t my home.” She said as she stepped forward, to take my hand – and in those few words she shattered my heart.

And I deserved it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This endeavor is my first ever fanfiction attempt, and it has been a blast to play with so far.
> 
> I would love to see your comments about what I'm writing!
> 
> So please hit me up with what you think! - Otter


	4. Vengeance is Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: If you have not read A Court of Mist and Fury by Sarah J. Maas I strongly suggest you go read it first - it's undoubtedly better written and what I have written will spoil the book for you.
> 
> I am re-writing all of ACOMAF from Rhysand's perspective, using all of the original characters/scenes/dialogue, and adding in new bits and bobs to flesh his story out more.
> 
> This Section:  
> Ch. 1 - Rhysand buys jewelry for Feyre and makes plans (New scene)  
> Ch. 2 - Rhysand meets the Archeron sisters for the first time  
> Ch. 3 - Feyre tries to train but is attacked by the Attor (Partial new scene)  
> Ch. 4 - Escorting the sisters to mail the letter, and questioning the Attor (Partial new scene)  
> Ch. 5 - A night out on the town - dinner in Velaris  
> Ch. 6 - Feyre trains with Cassian, then trains her magic with Rhysand (Partial new scene)  
> Ch. 7 - A night at the club, a plan to visit the Summer Court, lunch with Feyre and a night playing cards at the bar (Several new scenes)
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> *Disclaimer - I do not take credit for the any of the characters or the world created by Sarah J. Maas.

We returned to the chateau to find Feyre’s sisters in the sitting room again, Elain sitting in a chair looking pale and delicate again, with Nesta hovering beside her, fierce and angry. Cassian was standing near them both, angled in such a way that he could keep an eye on the door and windows, with his sword drawn and scanning every nook and cranny for danger. Upon seeing us, his shoulders relaxed slightly, and re-sheathed his sword.

Glancing towards Feyre he offered her a half smile, “You ok?”

She grimaced at him and nodded, “Yes.” Then walked over to her sisters, they didn’t embrace, but she sat down in a chair near them. They were both looking at her with a touch of shock, to see Feyre dressed in the same leathers as Cassian, flecked with snow and churned up mud, her braided hair disheveled.

I watched her, the guilt continuing to surge and threatening to overwhelm me.

_Velaris isn’t my home._

She hadn’t spent much time there, in fact she had only walked around the city just that one time with me – so it wasn’t too much of a surprise that she didn’t see it as home, and yet her words… they were like a punch in the gut. It felt more like she said it would _never_ be her home, that it was just a stop on the way to where she was really going, like her time with me was temporary. I suddenly felt desperate and anxious, my fingers tingling with the need to grab her and hold her, to keep her.

But she was not mine, and she was free. Subject to no one, and most especially not me.

I let out a sigh and looked towards Cassian, who was eying me now with sympathy and anger – he really did want to kick my ass over this.

“Go join Azriel in case he needs help, I’ll stay here with Feyre.” I hesitated and looked towards her – if she wanted to go with Cassian, that was her choice.

She looked up at me, gray-blue eyes still burning with anger… but something else. Contemplative almost, as though she was thinking through everything I had said instead of just being pissed off at me. She read the question in my hesitation and nodded once.

“I’ll stay here,” she said quietly.

Cassian gave a nod, and then looked to Nesta, a feral grin spreading over his face as he looked her over, head to toe. She hissed at him in rage and he laughed and gave her a mocking bow, then headed out of the sitting room.

Feyre just shook her head at them both, and Elain finally found her voice, “You look cold Feyre. Would you like some tea?”

I gave them as much privacy as I could tolerate – my desperate need to not lose Feyre making it difficult to remain calm - and walked over to the windows, taking up the position Azriel had held earlier. I clasped my hands behind my back and rested one shoulder against the window sill, and for all intents and purposes, I was staring outside. But the reflection on the glass showed me Feyre, sitting with her sisters, and I watched them, and it reminded me of viewing a memory through someone else’s mind.

They were cordial with each other, though not even really friendly, or loving for that matter. Nesta showed no kindness towards Feyre, though she was not outright rude, and even her kindness for Elain was stilted – though she had an overabundance of gentleness for her. Elain approached them both with kindness and a touch of submissiveness, allowing them to dictate many of her actions, but I had seen the fire flare in her – she had a strong will, but it was buried beneath a garden of delicate flowers. Feyre approached Nesta with detached caution, as though Nesta was a snarling cat that you dare not touch, and only flung kindness to from afar. Her treatment of Elain was kind and gentle, but she seemed discontent with her sister’s submissiveness, as though she wanted to grab Elain and shake her and tell her to _do_ something with conviction. I understand that feeling all too well – I had often felt that way towards Feyre, especially when she still lived at Spring Court.

It was fascinating to watch and also saddening, because it reminded me that Feyre had so few people in her lifetime that appreciated her for who she was, that saw the beauty and strength and intelligence. She was valued only for her contributions, be it food on a table or personal sense of conquest, at having her as a trophy on a mantle. 

I shifted my focus, looking past the reflection on the window and out onto the snowy grounds, tracing the line of trees and shrubs and thinking about the Attor. My rage surged at the thought of him, of the many, _many_ crimes he had to pay for – the least of which being his treatment of Feyre… and Claire Beddor. I closed my eyes for a moment, and lowered my head slightly – the guilt I had over that human girl, her torture and death, and death of her entire family…

I listened to the clink of tea cups, the scrape of forks on plates, and let the normalcy of it ground me before I was swept away in a tidal way of guilt and rage.

I felt her eyes on me then – not Feyre’s, and I’m not sure how I knew, except that she had never looked at me this way. Nesta was staring at me _hard_ , with anger, I could almost feel the flames of that anger licking their way down my back, but there was also weight to her look, as though she was trying to look through me, right down to my very soul. It felt like the way Amren often looked at me before she deigned to lecture me, except Amren’s look was far older and thus, far more soul crushing – Nesta had a few thousand years to go before I felt like bowing before her gaze.

I opened my eyes, and pivoted to meet her gaze, holding it without fear or servility.

It was a challenge, an open declaration of war – but not to combat each other, oh I’m sure we would butt heads more than once; no, it was a call to arms for her family, for her people. I had said I would fight, had fought in the past, and she was now lighting the signal fires, demanding I come to aid. I offered her a slow, small smile, and nodded to her once.

_Yes,_ I thought, _we will fight for you. All of us._

She said nothing, she didn’t nod or otherwise acknowledge my response, only turned her attention back to Elain.

Feyre was looking at me though, her brows furrowed slightly, trying to read what silent conversation I had just had with her sister.

I did not explain – if she wanted to ask later, I would tell her. Now though, her plate was empty, and she looked less frozen and agitated, and the sun was steadily marching across the sky.

“Shall we head into town, ladies?” I asked them smoothly.

They all looked at each other, then Feyre nodded. She sat her plate and teacup aside, then stood up, dusting herself off. “Let’s see this letter sent and my sisters safely home.”

I bowed my head to her and waited patiently as Nesta and Elain filed out to collect their coats and gloves. Feyre walked over to stand near me, a gesture I was grateful for, and looked out the windows before she asked, “What was that look?”

I glanced at her and smiled, “Your sister was challenging me to fight.”

Feyre’s gaze snapped to mine, her brows arched in surprise, “What?”

I let out a single chuckle and shrugged, “Not to fight her, but to fight for her, for Elain and her people. I think the attack on you brought it home – and she was lighting the signal fires, calling for aid.”

She held my gaze for a long moment, studying my eyes, as though she too were searching for something inside of me. I wanted to split myself open for her, to show her everything there was inside of me, all of my dreams and nightmares, and point out to her how every fiber of my being was written in her name – that every inch of me belonged to her.

For a second, just a second, I think she began to read her name inside of me, her eyes taking on a dark glint…

“Feyre, we’re ready,” Elain spoke up quietly from the door way.

Feyre looked away to see her sister, and nodded, glancing at me once, then walking towards her.

I let out a low breath, my shoulders sagging for just a minute – feeling both relief and frustration. I wanted her to see _me_ , but I also didn’t want to do it here. I wanted to be somewhere quiet, and alone, somewhere remote… Someday. Maybe.

Shaking my head, I stood up straight, and slid my hands into my pockets, then followed after them. It was a decent walk to the village, but not too terrible. All of the carriages had been sent off the day before with the chateau’s servants, so walking was our only option; unless I was to winnow them all, which I could have, but doubted either Elain or Nesta would appreciate that experience.

At the door leading outside I explained to them, “I will be holding a shield around Feyre and myself, you will not be able to see or hear us, but we will be walking right beside you the entire time.” 

Nesta’s gaze sharpened, eying me then looking to Feyre as though confirmation of what I was saying was true.

She nodded and gestured, “Let’s get this done.”

Stepping outside, I pulled up my darkness, spinning it into a ball and then pushing it out, enlarging it to surround both Feyre and myself. Instantly we became invisible and Elain gasped and took a step back, Nesta instinctively shifting to put herself in front of her.

I thinned the bubble just enough to speak through it, “Everything is fine, we’re still here, there is no danger.”

They hesitated a moment longer, then Nesta turned, linking arms with Elain, and began to lead her down the drive with Elain glancing back to where she thought we were with wide eyes.

I thickened the shield again to mask our sounds and glanced to Feyre who almost seemed amused, her eyes crinkling at the corner – but she did not smile.

I gestured to her, and we began out after her sisters, trailing behind them a few steps. It took several minutes to finish winding down the tree lined drive, the branches overhead bare and groaning in the cold winter wind. The drive had not been paved, but it had been lined with shimmering white gravel. Whereas the road leading to the village was bare earth and muddy – this would not be a pleasant trek. Elain and Nesta took to the far right of the road, as close to the mounds of snow piled on the side as they could in order to avoid the deep muddy ruts in the center and continued on with surprising fortitude.

We followed in silence, with Feyre looking straight ahead for the most part. I on the other hand glanced around often – keeping an eye on the woods for danger, but also looking for places I had seen in Feyre’s mind, from her past.

“Where-“ I spoke up tentatively, “where was your other home, in relation to your family’s new home?”

She glanced up at me, then looked around, as though seeing where she was for the first time – as though she had been living solely in her head for the last mile.

With a jerk of her chin to the west she said, “That way. Well and far more north. We were about a mile north west of the village on the edge of the forest that runs parallel to the Wall, the chateau is south east of it.” I turned my head looking in the direction she mentioned, and there was nothing to see, except for flashes of images I had from her mind of the tiny hovel.

“Did you ever go back, after… when you were sent back here?” By Tamlin, he had sent her back here, to keep her safe – but she had returned, and ventured Under the Mountain.

Her shoulders tensed a little, but she nodded, “Yes, once. I didn’t realize how small it was – it never felt big, but it felt even smaller when I returned.”

We were quiet for several more minutes before I spoke up again, “Did you… lose many friends, when you left here? You’ve never mentioned any.”

She laughed, once, almost bitter. “No, I never really had time for friends – all my time was spent hunting the forest to feed my family or picking up odd jobs around the village in the spring and summer for a little extra coin.” She was quiet for a moment then said, “Elain has always been good at making friends, Nesta, well… you can guess, she never lets anyone get close enough, but since she is always around Elain, her friends included Nesta as well. I was never good at it, friendship requires energy, and it requires you to give pieces of yourself up. I had nothing left to give back then, I had given up everything that I was, everything that I wanted for myself to make sure we all survived. I was too empty to be anyone’s friend.” Her brows furrowed at that thought, as though processing something about it.

I swallowed hard and felt like her words cut too closely to how I felt sometimes, about that yawning empty hole inside of me. It felt like it would devour me whole sometimes, like it would swallow up my hopes and dreams, everything that was still good about me, and leave me completely barren. Could I still have friends then? My family? They would not abandon me, but would I finally push them so far away that there would be nothing in me for them to fight for? No safe harbor in me for them to return to.

My thoughts were cut short as the village came into view. It was enclosed in a wooden wall, twice the height of a man, with three gates manned by men dressed in every day clothing, with only a few sporting any kind of armor, though they all carried actual weapons and not the pitchforks I nearly expected. Azriel was right, they were not prepared for a war, they weren’t prepared for much except maybe a wild animal attack – I wasn’t even sure they could withhold an attack from brigands. It made my stomach tighten, with fear and frustration – and the fear was interesting. I had every intention of fighting Hybern, for Prythian and for the mortal realms, but I had no real connection with humans to make the fight personal.

Except for Feyre.

We trailed her sisters up to the Trading Post, one of the larger buildings in the village. It managed most of the incoming and outgoing goods to the nearby sea port, and they would be able to pay for the letter to be sent to the mainland and delivered to the Queens palace. Side stepping around to the building, we let her sisters go inside alone, and waited on them patiently. I leaned against the building, my hands in my pockets as I watched the humans on their daily errands – much like the fae would be in Velaris, but there was something different… I focused harder, trying to understand what it was. I finally realized that the difference between the two was that the fae in Velaris lived to work and dance and play, whereas the humans here worked to live, and not much else – for some reason their lives appeared to be more of a struggle than those of my people.

It was the quiet hitch in Feyre’s breathing that caught my attention and my gaze immediately snapped to her. Her body remained relaxed, there wasn’t an ounce of fear or panic coming from her, and there was just the barest outline of a smile on her lips. The change in her breathing had just been a moment of recognition, nothing else. I followed her gaze to that of a young man in the town square, talking to another, older man, and I felt my body tense slightly.

“An old friend?” I asked her quietly, even though we had just had a conversation about this.

She didn’t look at me, but she did look away from him – and her eyes didn’t stray back to him with longing. She instead glanced around the corner of the building, looking for her sisters.

“No,” she answered me quietly, “just someone I knew once.”

I stared at her, and instinctively knew there was more to it – and if I was being honest, I could easily guess he was someone she had once had some form of intimacy with… but I didn’t think there had been love. She did not pine for the loss of him, and she did not appear angry or bitter… it felt more like a pleasant fondness for something in the past, a memory that one could look back on and find a kernel of happiness in.

I looked back at the young man, handsome enough for a human, and nothing of him spoke of cruelty. There was jealousy in me because of this man though, perhaps even more so than Tamlin, because he had been her first, maybe even just her first kiss. I looked back at her as she watched for her sisters, thinking about all of the things she had experienced that I had not shared with her, and then considered all the things I had experienced that she could not share with me. Our age differences were… substantial. Did it matter though?

No. Not in terms of being Mates, my father was nine hundred, and my mother eighteen… and they had been miserable. That comparison didn’t help much… I did love Feyre though, my parents did not love each other, at all. So, there was that… though Feyre – Feyre did not love me. Yet. Maybe she would in time – would our ages matter then? Would it really matter that I was not the first man she kissed? 

I looked at her, studying her face, and something inside me eased as the thought passed through my head, _not so long as I am the last._ If I was the one she chose to be with forever, absolutely nothing else would matter.

My Feyre…

“Here they come,” she spoke up and glanced at me, her brows arching in question at the look on my face.

I shook my head and pushed up from the wall, “Let’s go then, it’s colder than hell out here.”

Feyre grimaced and nodded and we began winding our way through town and back down the muddy road towards the chateau.

When we finally arrived, muddy, cold and tired, Nesta and Elain stopped on the front steps and turned to look around for us. I drew the darkness back inside myself, popping the shield that hid us, and Elain gasped again – this time however there was a touch of curious delight. Nesta just looked cold and hard and entirely unimpressed. 

“Will you come in and warm up before you leave?” Elain asked us, and there was enough hope in her voice that it made me smile briefly – there may not be an abundance of love for Feyre in this family of hers, but with Elaine there was at least fondness.

I looked towards Feyre, it was her choice, but I needed to head back – the Attor was waiting, among other things. If she wanted to stay… I could leave her, but she would be unprotected – if she had some control over her gifts then I would have no hesitation. My chest tightened with the dilemma – but the ring in my pocket, still so heavy, reminded me of my mother’s words and I clung to them. It was her choice to make, and I trusted her to make it. 

Though in the end, my struggle was unwarranted.

Feyre shook her head once, “Thank you, but no. We need to head back.”

I nodded and looked up at her sisters, “One of us will check back occasionally to see if there is word.”

Elain nodded, “Of course, we’ll look for you.”

Nesta only started at Feyre for a moment, then glanced at me, before turning and stalking into the house.

Elain smiled sweetly at Feyre, then followed Nesta inside.

Feyre let out a soft sigh, then turned towards me. I held out my arms and she stepped into them, though did not look at me as I swept her up. I unfurled my wings behind me, and pulled my darkness in around us, winnowing us over the rolling ocean, my wings snapping out to catch us as we began to fall. I rode the currents, twisting and then diving down for the gap in the Wall, soaring through it, my wings beating to propel us forward. Once through, I caught a current, taking us up higher and held it, as I pulled my darkness around us again and winnowed us into the foyer of the town house – hiding my wings before we landed on the plush carpet. 

I sat Feyre down, she glanced up at me once, then turned and headed upstairs without a word. I watched her go, feeling my heart in my throat and the words burning on the tip of my tongue: _I’m sorry._

With guilt gnawing its way through me, I winnowed to Hewn City.

\- - - ~*~ - - -

I arrived in Hewn City, beneath the castle that was my ancestral home and heritage, drawing the darkness back inside of myself, except for a small portion which I allowed to leak out of me. Tendrils of it curling around me, like Azriel’s shadows except… not. The difference was subtle, but undeniable – Azriel embraced shadows, but I _was_ darkness.

I made my way down the long hallway towards the voices at the end, taking in a slow, deep breath as I held back the low anxiety in the pit of my stomach. I had been down here only a week and a half ago, and my impression of the place had not improved, but sometimes it was a necessity. This was one of those times – and despite my anxiety – I looked forward to seeing the Attor brought low.

Stopping in front of the heavy wooden door the voices were locked behind, I raised a hand and gestured, and the door swung open smoothly. Standing beside the door, Cassian twisted at the sound of the door opening, reaching for one of his daggers when he saw me. Releasing his grip, he bowed to me and move away from the door as I stepped inside, drawing the door closed behind me with a tendril of darkness.

The room was dark, lit only by a single fae light, and it was achingly cold. In the center of the room sat the Attor, chained to a chair, with Azriel standing in front of him. The Attor was more battered than he had been in the forest only an hour or two ago, and he looked at me with black eyes burning with pure hatred – the feeling was mutual.

Azriel looked up at me, and his hazel eyes were hard and cold – the eyes of a cold-blooded murderer. I gestured to him once, to continue, and stepped to the other side of the door, leaning back against the wall, arms crossed as I watched.

Azriel drew his dagger, Truth-Teller, a dangerously sharp obsidian dagger with Illyrian runes etched into the scabbard. The Attor saw it and began to pant – legends were told of Azriel shadowsinger and his dagger. Azriel dropped down into a crouch in front of the wretched fae, and rested his dagger lightly on his knee, the obsidian shining in the dim light.

“Tell me how you tracked her,” Azriel said in a quiet voice that was nearly as commanding as my own.

I watched and listened, a part of my mind reaching out to brush over the Attor’s – absorbing any additional information that he refused or failed to put into words. Another part of my mind thought about Hewn City reveling above us – and what Mor had told me before we went to the mortal realm yesterday, that I would need to make an appearance soon. The final part of my mind swirled around Feyre, the guilt at not having told her, of failing to trust her… and the pride and excitement of seeing her use her gifts. She _winnowed_.

Straining against his bonds, the Attor let out a low, raspy laugh, “I received word from the King that’s where you were. I don’t know how he knew. I got the order, flew to the Wall as fast as I could.”

My eyes narrowed a little at that information… how were they able to track us? No one knew we were going except my inner circle, and they were absolutely trustworthy.

The Attor’s eyes shifted towards me, and he bared his teeth at me, “Good luck trying to keep her, High Lord.”

I tensed slightly at his words, my hands curling into fists under my arms.

Azriel had no reaction, only stared the Attor down as he asked, “Why?” 

There was something about Azriel when he was like this that sent a tremor down my spine – even after all of these centuries. People often thought of Cassian as the wild battle-frenzied Illyrian, but he was more solid and stoic – he had a hot temper that could be dangerous, but his natural inclination was to use his temper to forge and weld, instead of destroying.

Azriel however… there was ice in him none of us had ever been able to thaw, even Mor had only just brushed back the surface of it. He rarely spoke of his past, of the darkness he had been locked in, of how he embraced it to survive. I truly believed he held himself in such restraint, with such high expectations, because beneath it all there might be a degree of insanity lurking.

The Attor sneered at us, “Do you think it is not common knowledge that you took her from Tamlin?”

We all knew that, it was most definitely common knowledge, and it had been one of Azriel’s tasks to monitor the Spring Court and any potential attack from its allies. Though what should have also been common knowledge was how Tamlin had been slowly killing Feyre, and locked her in his manor; but unfortunately, there were some fae who would have said it was his right – she was his by law, nearly. The thought made me want to snarl viciously, but I held it inside, keeping my face impassive.

He shifted tactics, though it was obvious cajoling was not in his natural skill set, “The King could help you keep her – consider sparing you, if you worked with him…”

I gritted my teeth slightly – Feyre was _not_ mine, I did not _keep_ her, and I never would, and I would _never_ accept help to do so. Feyre was free, and I would give my life to ensure she remained that way. As for sparing me… I would rather die fighting, then be a slave again, and I knew, glancing at Cassian, he felt the same way.

I turned my attention to rummaging through the Attor’s mind again, examining the images of the enormous army, Hybern’s shores filled with ships, taking count of numbers, weapons, armor, any oddities… An image of the King on his throne in his crumbling castle, arrogant and cruel. There were no images of Jurian or the Cauldon… and no thoughts about the Book of Breathings – so our search for it might still be secret.

After another pass through, I realized there was nothing left for this wretch to give us.

Azriel reached the same conclusion and looked over his shoulder at me.

I stood up straight, sliding my hands into my pockets, “Break it’s legs, shred it’s wings, and dump it off the coat of Hybern. See if it survives.”

The Attor being thrashing wildly in its bonds, begging and screaming.

I walked towards the door, calm and impassive, gesturing for the door to open, and pausing in the threshold of it. I looked over my shoulder at him, and said quietly, “I remember every moment of it. Be grateful I’m letting you live. For now.”

I glanced at Cassian, and could read the question in his eyes – _want me to come with you?_

A subtle shake of my head and he bowed his. I stepped through the door and shut it behind me, then walked down the hallway, listening to the Attor’s desperate, pain-filled screams. Each one threatened to remind me of memories from Under the Mountain, but I worked hard not to remember and just remind myself that every scream was down payment for one of his crimes.

At the end of the hallway, I pulled the darkness in around myself, and winnowed back to the town house, arriving in the foyer – and pulling all of my darkness back within. Before I saw her, I felt her, and immediately walked into the sitting room. I found her stretched out on the couch in front of the fire place, bathed and smelling sweetly, her hair falling behind her still damp and shiny from the water. She had a book in her lap and a cup of rose tea at her elbow, and she was lovely. The sight of her banished the screams, it banished the blood and pain, the fear and the memories. I was reborn in spirit if not in body as I gazed upon her.

Seeing me, she stood up, dropping her book onto the low table, and began to take a step towards me but hesitated. Her blue-gray eyes scanned me, looking me over closely, for what I wasn’t sure.

“It’s done,” I told her, reaching up to run my fingers through my hair. “We learned what we needed to.” Dropping my hand, I stared into her eyes, and banished the resignation in her eyes – as though she expected me to dismiss her - with my next words, “It’s up to you, Feyre, to decide how much of your methods you want to know about. What you can handle. What we did to the Attor wasn’t pretty.”

Something flared in her eyes, not excitement – she wasn’t cruel, but rather validation. I had validated her freedom; I had validated her strength.

Her voice was resolved, “I want to know everything. Take me there.”

I shook my head, “The Attor isn’t in Velaris.” I would never have allowed that filthy wretch within this city. “He was in Hewn City, in the Court of Nightmares – where it took Azriel less than an hour to break him.”

I walked towards her, leaving only a foot or so of distance between us. Her gaze swept over me again, and I waited until she looked me in eyes once more before I explained, “I’ll show you.”

Reaching out to her mind, I brushed my claws over her shield gently, coaxing her to lower it a little. When she did, I drew her into my mind, into the little room I had built just for her, carefully sealed from all of the thoughts I was not ready for her to see. When her mind settled, I opened the flow of memory to her, watching it with her. She did not flinch or draw away, simply watched it from beginning to end, and when it was done, I gently released her mind and felt her spool back into herself.

She staggered just slightly, and I raised my hand to catch her, but she steadied herself and then looked at me sharply.

“What _situation_ with the Spring Court?”

I shook my head once, “None. As of right now. But you know how far Tamlin can be driven to… protect what he thinks is his.”

She had not raised her shields again, and the image of red paint splattered across the ruined study wall flashed across her mind. 

My hands, back in my pockets again, clenched tightly into fists – the image still contained all the fear of the moment, and it made rage surge through me again.

“I should have sent Mor that day,” I said with quiet, deadly menace.

I felt her shields snap up into place and couldn’t help the flicker of pride.

But her face went impassive and her eyes dark, “Thank you for telling me.”

She turned and picked up her book and tea, and then walked past me, heading towards the stairs.

I turned to watch her, all rage draining out of me, replaced with guilt as I called out to her softly, “Feyre,” she didn’t stop but I continued, “I am sorry – about deceiving you earlier.”

She paused on the stairs, refusing to look at me, and then said quietly, “I need to write a letter.”

And then continued upstairs, leaving me alone and confused, and swimming in guilt.

\- - - ~*~ - - - 

I stared at the letter in my hand, only a few short lines, but every one of the words became a brilliant star in the dark sky of my mind. They glimmered and twirled and lit me up inside until I felt I ought to be glowing with hope.

_I left of my own free will._

_I am care for and safe. I am grateful for all that you did for me, all that you gave._

_Please don’t come looking for me. I’m not coming back._

I wasn’t sure how I managed to keep my hand steady, or how I managed to breathe at all. 

_Feyre, my Feyre…_

I folded the letter in half and sent it to my pocket realm; I would give it to Azriel to deliver later.

However, I looked at her, and with my heart in my throat, asked her quietly, “Are you sure?”

She looked past me, through the large front window as though she was drinking in the sight of the sun, the city… the world.

“I am no one’s pet.” She said calmly and then met my gaze again, and my knees wanted to buckle before her. I had told her that once, told her she belonged to no one – she had grown angry at me for saying it, though I knew she had been angrier at the truth of it than anything. Now though, the look in her eyes… she believed it. It wasn’t just a catch phrase for her, a nice little anecdote she is saying to try and convince herself.

She _knew_ the truth of it.

Cauldron save me… this woman – she was broken and radiant, fragile and invincible – she no longer feared the fire, she had become it; and she was blazing her way across my night sky.

“What’s next?” She asked me, and I wondered how she still could not see it in my eyes, my absolute devotion to her.

I swallowed down all the words I wanted to say, and managed instead, “For what it’s worth, I did actually want to give you a day to rest-“

She cut in quickly, “Don’t coddle me.”

I wanted to laugh in triumph of a battle long fought, and _won_ , because every time before she would have expected to be coddled – had resigned herself to it – but now she was quick to demand to be treated as she always should have been, as an equal.

“I’m not,” I told her, but decided to push her just a little, desperate to see more of her fire, “And I’d hardly call our encounter this morning _rest._ But you will forgive me if I make assessments based on your current physical condition.”

Ah Feyre, she did not disappoint me, and flared brighter still.

Lifting her chin slightly, “I’ll be the person who decides that. What about the Book of Breathings?”

Smiling slightly, “Once Azriel returns from dealing with the Attor, he’s to put his other skill set to use and infiltrate the mortal Queens’ courts to learn where they’re keeping it – and what their plans might be. And as for the half in Prythian… We’ll go to the Summer Court within a few days, if my request is approved. High Lords visiting other courts makes everyone jumpy. We’ll deal with the Book then.”

I waited then, to see what her response would be – with nothing pertinent that needed to be done, would she retreat to her room as she always had before, withdraw back into herself. 

_Play with me Feyre, burn for me…_

She crossed her arms in front of herself, eying me as she considered, then said, “You told me that this city was better seen at night. Are you all talk, or will you ever bother to show me?”

I laughed.

She was _radiant._

Looking her over, I drank her in, and she did not recoil from my gaze as I caressed her with it. I lifted my gaze to hers and smiled wide and brilliant, and something inside of me that had been clenched so _tight_ for so damn long, unraveled, and as I took in a breath, I realized that I _could_ breathe again. The relief was so poignant it was palatable, and it tasted of sweet honey and rich whiskey and I was drunk on her.

“Dinner,” I said with delight, “Tonight. Let’s find out if _you_ , Feyre darling, are all talk – or if you’ll allow a Lord of Night to take you out on the town.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This endeavor is my first ever fanfiction attempt, and it has been a blast to play with so far.
> 
> I would love to see your comments about what I'm writing!
> 
> So please hit me up with what you think! - Otter


	5. A Night on the Town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: If you have not read A Court of Mist and Fury by Sarah J. Maas I strongly suggest you go read it first - it's undoubtedly better written and what I have written will spoil the book for you.
> 
> I am re-writing all of ACOMAF from Rhysand's perspective, using all of the original characters/scenes/dialogue, and adding in new bits and bobs to flesh his story out more.
> 
> This Section:  
> Ch. 1 - Rhysand buys jewelry for Feyre and makes plans (New scene)  
> Ch. 2 - Rhysand meets the Archeron sisters for the first time  
> Ch. 3 - Feyre tries to train but is attacked by the Attor (Partial new scene)  
> Ch. 4 - Escorting the sisters to mail the letter, and questioning the Attor (Partial new scene)  
> Ch. 5 - A night out on the town - dinner in Velaris  
> Ch. 6 - Feyre trains with Cassian, then trains her magic with Rhysand (Partial new scene)  
> Ch. 7 - A night at the club, a plan to visit the Summer Court, lunch with Feyre and a night playing cards at the bar (Several new scenes)
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> *Disclaimer - I do not take credit for the any of the characters or the world created by Sarah J. Maas.

The rest of the day was spent in building anticipation, and honestly, not much else. I struggled to think past the swirling emotions inside of me, and when the sun finally set it felt as though this day had been the longest of my life. I had initially thought about taking Feyre out on the town myself, just the two of us, but I had read that letter and had known how hard it must have been for her to write it. Her love with Tamlin had been hot and fast, and died just as quickly - that would take time to heal from. And I could be patient, for Feyre, I would wait for eternity… and for the first time in months I began to believe that maybe, just maybe, I wouldn’t have to.

With that in mind however, I sent out messages to my family, inviting them all out to a night on the town, with Feyre. They had all accepted readily, even Azriel still withdrawn in himself after his work today, and Amren who had been buried in books still deigned to show up at the town house at the appointed hour. Feyre had been downstairs when most of them had arrived, and while not necessarily smiling, she had seemed pleased to see them, even hugging Mor back without hesitation. She fled upstairs though after the initial greetings, to change clothes for the evening, and not long after I watched Amren make her way up after her.

Azriel spotted her heading upstairs and glanced at me, arching a brow. Having no idea of her intentions, I shrugged in response. I did however, approach him then, and reached into my pocket realm, pulling out the letter Feyre had written to Tamlin earlier. I positioned myself so that Cassian and Mor could not see it, and handed it to Azriel, who did not open it - seeing my movements and guessing the contents were private – and I brushed a thought across his mind.

_Deliver this to the Spring Court, it’s from Feyre, and private; it goes directly to Tamlin._

He stared at me for a moment, then nodded once, and with a brief flash of the Siphons on his hands, the note disappeared, to his own pocket realm. 

Beside us on the couch, Cassian and Mor were arguing with each other animatedly. They noticed the interaction, but also noticed the pains I took to keep it private and respected my decision. 

I walked back to the chair I had been sitting in and sank back into it, listening to their argument with amusement.

“There is _no_ way you overgrown bat; winnowing is absolutely faster,” Mor said, arms crossed as she looked down her nose at him.

Cassian snorted, leaning back comfortably on the couch, “Oh please, I can definitely fly faster than you can winnow, have you seen the size of my wings?”

I grinned, listening to them and was definitely _not_ going to get involved in this argument; besides I was keeping an ear cocked for Feyre.

Seconds later I felt a shift of the air behind me, something Mor and Cassian did not notice. I glanced to where Azriel stood by the front window, and saw a shadow thicken beside him for a brief moment, almost taking the shape of a woman… then vanish. Nuala, or perhaps Cerridwen then, reporting to him on Amren’s movements – both annoying and amusing.

There was no need for Azriel to spy on Amren, I trusted her implicitly, but he was often overly cautious and had never entirely trusted her. I wouldn’t punish him for it however, despite disobeying an order – he was not doing it to undermine me, but to protect us – how could I possibly punish him for such loyalty? Azriel met my gaze for a moment, unrepentant – he knew that I had seen, and knew what my thoughts were on the matter. I gave him a half smile and then looked away, back to where Mor and Cassian continued to bicker.

It was another five minutes or so before I heard Feyre’s door open upstairs, and shut, and looked towards the stairs to see Amren coming down them. She looked at me and smirked widely, as though she had just heard a particularly clever joke… and wasn’t about to share.

I stared at her, confused, but she just continued to smirk as she said to everyone, “She’s on her way down.”

I stood quickly, probably too quickly, as Mor and Cassian shot me surprised looks that turned into smiles. I ignored them and walked to meet Amren at the threshold into the foyer and stared up at Feyre as she came to the top of the stairs, her gaze meeting mine and holding there for a moment before she looked away and made her way down; I took the opportunity to drink in the sight of her.

She was dressed in a knee length white dress, structured and form fitting, with sleeves that fell from her shoulders, leaving her neck and collar bones bare, save for the delicate gold necklace that held a small strand of six pearls - each one a different color. Her bare legs were covered in shiny cobalt blue leggings and ended in black boots that laced to her calves, sporting a short heel. Around her waist was a belt of woven turquoise, with small white pearls sewn onto it. Her brown-gold hair had been curled, and part of it swept up with combs of mother-of-pearl. She even had make-up on, something I had never seen her wear before, just some kohl on her lashes and a light pink color painted on her lips, but the effect... Over one arm she had a heavy coat of blue, and in one hand she held a pair of matching dark blue gloves.

She was… she was beautiful, Mother above, how could she be so breath-takingly beautiful? Every time I saw her it hit me again, just as hard as it had hit me all those months ago, the first time I ever saw her…

I swallowed, and the only thing that likely saved me from Feyre seeing the stunned-ox look on my face as she descended the stairs was Cassian shoving me, ‘gently’ into the foyer, “C’mon bastard, don’t just stand here all night, I’m starving!”

I stumbled and turned to look at him, narrowing my eyes, and he smirked at me wide and unapologetic. A glance at Feyre showed me she was mildly amused, and a little concerned we might fight.

I let out a breath and stuffed my hands into my pockets, smirking at my brother, “You do like to play with fire, brother.”

He winked at Feyre, “I thought only Feyre did that.”

She blushed a little – actually blushed! - and Mor laughed as she filed past, walking to the hall closet to pull out her coat. The rest trailed after, and I walked over to Feyre, lifting her coat off of her arm and held it up for her to slip into. She hesitated a moment, then turned and tucked her arms into the sleeves. I settled it on her shoulders and then let go, taking a step back and gestured her ahead of me. She trailed after the others, tugging on her gloves as she walked. I followed behind, pausing at the closet to pull out a black jacket and shrugged it on, before heading out and shutting the door behind us. 

We strolled through the city, casual and unhurried, and thoroughly enjoying the sights and sounds of Velaris at night. It bustled and thrived during the day, but at night it _glowed_ , the fae lights that lit the streets a mere echo of the stars that blossomed across the expanse of the night sky. Once we crossed one of the marble bridges that spanned the length of the Sidra, lit with ornate lanterns that shimmered gold, we found ourselves in amongst the thickest crowds of those enjoying Velaris by night. We could hear the sound of theaters in the distance sporting music and the raucous laughter of crowds watching orchestras and plays, and next to us the restaurants and café’s that lined most of the street running parallel to the Sidra were filled with fae dining and talking, the rich smell of the varied foods offered tempting our senses.

Feyre drank it all in, her eyes wide as she took in the city she had partially toured only a few short days ago, but only now seemed to really _see_. It was not just the city she took in however, she remained quiet and a step or two behind the others as she watched them, listening to them talk and bicker and laugh. I stayed near her, even when they drifted away to talk to another passing fae on the street or stopped to listen to music – remaining quiet except to answer one of the others when they included me in their conversation. At times I felt like she was surprised by how the other fae in the streets treated us, like she could not believe that they weren’t running away screaming or falling to their knees in subservience. I wasn’t sure if that was an indication of how she thought about us, or just a remark on the mannerisms of the fae in the Spring Court.

A little further down the street we finally came to a two-story building with a tiny restaurant built into the lower level, the entire space bedecked in greens and golds. This was a favorite restaurant of ours and the owner – a slim, dark-skinned female named Attael - welcomed us personally by name and kissed each of us on the cheek. A sight that appeared to shock Feyre so completely that she didn’t recoil from a similar kiss on her cheek after I introduced her.

“It’s good to see you again Attael,” I smiled at her warmly, “this is my friend, Feyre, she is new to the city and we wanted to take her to the best restaurant in Velaris.”

I took a chance at calling Feyre my friend, but she looked neither shocked nor upset at the claim, and I felt my body relax with relief.

Attael had blushed at the compliment, greeted Feyre and kissed her cheek, then ushered us all to a large table that sat half in the restaurant and half out – but the warming spell cast over the restaurant kept us from being chilled by the night air. Attael refused us menus and instead began bringing out platters of nearly everything on the menu, and soon we had a wide selection of rich, spicy and savory dishes. It became obvious that Feyre had never eaten food like this before, and she was a little hesitant to try it – but before I could encourage her, it was Azriel, who had remained withdrawn for most of the walk here, that leaned towards her with a half-smile.

“These dishes,” he gestured to a selection of five of them, “are only mildly spicy, and most of them are chicken.”

He pointed to one of them in particular, “This one is my personal favorite, it’s commonly used name is ‘butter chicken’, and it’s very rich and savory. Most of these dishes are eaten with rice,” he gestured to a steaming pot of the aromatic white rice, then pointed to a large plate of triangular cut pieces of thin, fluffy bread, “and this flat bread called ‘naan’.”

Mor piped up then, taking up the thread of explaining the dishes, “The spice level can get pretty high.” She pointed to the dish set smack dab in front of Cassian who was already scooping a generous portion of it onto his plate, “That is probably the hottest dish on the table, it’s called ‘rista’, and he’s the only one who can stand to eat it, so I would avoid it and avoid kissing him later.”

She winked at Feyre who smirked, but was now encouraged enough to try out the new food, and filled her plate with rice and a small portion of a few of the dishes Azriel recommended to her. I couldn’t help smiling and waited until she had made her selection before filling my own plate, and we all dug in – giving Attael the best possible compliment by devouring nearly everything presented to us. It was an unexpected pleasure to watch as Feyre broadened her horizons, even with something as relatively simple as food. She soon decided on her favorites, and tried a selection of spicier dishes, discovering to her delight that she enjoyed several of the hotter dishes – though she did avoid Cassian’s favorite, even though he taunted her to try it. Soon we were just leaning back, occasionally nabbing another bite or two from a dish, but mostly drinking the excellent wine and talking.

Attael came back out from the kitchens then to chat with us, working her way down the table with enthusiasm. Reaching me at the end, and standing behind Feyre’s chair, she chatted happily with me about the city, giving me a report of some of the recent activities that was as good as Mor’s reports. After a minute though she paused and twisted her hands in her apron, looking a little apprehensive and apologetic – as though she wanted to talk to me directly about this, her High Lord, but also afraid to ruin my evening.

“The traders were saying the prices might rise, High Lord,” she said as she shifted on her feet, “especially if rumors about Hybern awakening are correct.”

I glanced down the table and saw how everyone twisted subtly to listen, all without pausing in their own conversation – all except for Feyre who had nearly turned all the way in her seat to observe my conversation with Attael. I leaned back as I returned my attention to Attael again, swirling the wine in my goblet, a rather sweet red that I was thoroughly enjoying, and responded calmly, “We’ll find a way to keep the prices from skyrocketing.”

“Don’t trouble yourself of course,” Attael said as she flushed slightly, looking even more embarrassed now. Another pause then, “It’s just… so lovely to have such spices available again – now that… things are better.”

I felt Feyre tense beside me at the table – she was still uncomfortable with the prospect of being recognized and praised for what she did Under the Mountain. It had yet to happen in Velaris, and I did not expect Attael to do it either, but I understood Feyre reticence.

I gave Attael a gentle smile and leaned forward slightly, “I wouldn’t be troubling myself – not when I like your cooking so much.”

Attael beamed and flushed with pleasure, and only then seemed to notice Feyre looking at both of us. She gestured to the plates of food and asked her kindly, “Is it to your liking?”

Feyre glanced back to examine the table and the food, a look of remembrance and… longing? Crossed her face, before she looked back to Attael and spoke slowly, as though drawing the truth out of herself word by word, “I’ve lived in the mortal realm, and lived in other courts, but I’ve never had food like this. Food that makes me… feel awake.”

Shocked and delighted by her response, I simply stared at her with wonder.

Attael’s face softened as she nodded her understanding and reached up to squeeze Feyre’s shoulder gently as she said, “Then I’ll bring you a special dessert.”

Feyre smiled her thanks before she turned back to face the table, and glanced to me, her face turning confused as she read whatever stunned expression I had on my face. I gave her a wide grin, trying to mask how enthralled I was with her – patience I had to remind myself, she needed time – and leaned towards Mor, listening to the story she was telling the rest of the group; an unusually amusing anecdote about something that happened in Hewn City.

Moments later Attael returned from the kitchen, though not with the dessert for Feyre, instead she carried a metal goblet. I could easily smell the blood and flicked my gaze to Feyre who was watching intently, her body tense and her face uncertain. Though the rest, Mor, Cassian and Azriel did not pause in their conversation, except for a quick glance towards the cup when they smelled the blood – as though it was a common enough experience – which it was, and perhaps it was that which helped Feyre remain calm. 

Attael sat it in front of Amren, whose brows rose in surprise, “You didn’t have to do that.”

Attael shrugged and smiled at Amren, “It’s fresh and hot, and we needed the beast for tomorrow’s roast, anyway.”

Amren leaned forward and picked up the goblet, swirling it gently, and the dark liquid lapped at the sides of the goblet. A slightly sick expression passed over Feyre’s face but faded quickly.

Taking a sip from the goblet, Amren savored it, then looked up to Attael and said warmly, “You spiced it nicely.”

Bowing, Attael smiled and said before she headed back to the kitchen, “No one leaves my place hungry.”

“He _didn’t,_ ” gasped Mor at Cassian who let out a roar of laughter. 

Azriel actually grinned and nodded once, “He did, I heard about it after.”

Feyre looked away from Amren, who was enjoying her goblet of blood to listen to their story. The sight of it warmed me, and I leaned forward to add to the story with a grin.

“Yes, and you should read the _scathing_ letter I received about it. Honestly, I have considered framing it and hanging it in my study.”

Mor fell into a fit of laughter, bright and ringing, which made Attael smile as she walked out of the kitchen, carrying another plate. Walking over to Feyre she sat down a medium sized bowl heaped with what looked like fried dough dunked in syrup.

“Here you go dear, I think you will like these,” she patted Feyre on the shoulder than bustled off.

Feyre looked from the dish to me, her eyes wide again and confused. Mor managed to get her laughter under control long enough to go, “Oooh! Can I have some Feyre?”

“What… are they?” She asked hesitantly, and Azriel chuckled.

I leaned towards her and said, “They’re a dessert, a kind of fried dough that is soaked in an infused syrup, they’re called Gulab Jamun.” I smiled encouragingly, “You’ll like them, I promise.”

She looked down at the bowl, then spooned a couple of them out before handing it off to Mor who spooned out a generous portion and passed the bowl on – after asking Feyre if she could. I took a couple myself but paused to watch Feyre cut into one and take a bite, her eyes widening in delight at the sweet flavor and pleasant texture; I chuckled and followed suit with pleasure. By the time we were finished we were all stuffed to the brim, and though Attael attempted to refuse payment from me, I insisted.

“It’s not necessary, my Lord,” she said as she tried to push my hand away gently, “it has been our pleasure to serve you and your friends this evening.”

“I insist,” I told her with a warm smile, handing her the money, a generous tip for her and her staff included, “you always go above and beyond to give us a wonderful meal. Thank you for being so welcoming.”

She hesitated, then took the money and bowed to me.

I smiled at her, then headed towards the front of the restaurant, pausing when Amren gestured to me.

“I’m not staying the rest of the evening, it’s been lovely, but I have more work to do. I’m going to see if I can get some more blood from Attael then head back to my loft,” she explained simply.

I nodded, “Of course, thank you for coming tonight, and thank you for all of your hard work. I hope you know how much I appreciate it.”

Amren smirked slightly, “Oh I do, your last gift was exquisite.”

I chuckled as she bowed her head to me and then headed on to the back of the restaurant. I made my way outside where Cassian, Azriel and Mor were standing in a small group, with Feyre off to the side just a bit.

“I want to go dancing,” I heard Mor announce as I approached behind Feyre quietly. “I won’t be able to fall asleep when I’m this full. Rita’s is right up the street.”

I saw Feyre tense slightly, as though the thought of dancing was just too much for her tonight.

“I’m in,” Azriel said quickly, his eyes locked on Mor. 

“Of course you are,” Cassian grumbled, then he frowned at Azriel, “Don’t you have to be off at dawn?”

Mor, realizing that Cassian was right, frowned and said, “We don’t have to-“

“I want to,” Azriel said, holding her gaze long enough that Mor didn’t argue further.

She turned to look at Cassian and said with playful smirk, “Will you deign to join us, or do you have plans to ogle your muscles in the mirror?” 

He snorted at her, looping his elbow through hers and began to lead her up the street, “I’ll go – for the drinks, you ass. No Dancing.”

“Thank the Mother,” I heard Mor say to Cassian. “You nearly shattered my foot the last time you tried.” 

I watched Feyre as her head turned to look at Azriel, and her shoulders hunched slightly, perhaps in concern. I looked at my brother as well, the shadows swirling thickly around him, while he watched Mor and Cassian make their way up the street. After a minute he took a deep breath and released it, and as though the action were a command the shadows danced away from him, and he began to stroll after the two, quiet and calm.

It was then Feyre turned her head, looking for another venue of escape, when she suddenly realized Amren was not with us.

I leaned forward and spoke quietly in her ear, “She’s getting more blood in the back to take home with her.”

Feyre gasped and seemed to almost jump with surprise, and I let out a warm chuckle – breathing in the fresh scent of her, “And then she’ll be going right to her apartment to gorge herself.”

She finally turned to look at me, her eyes wide and her skin going a little pale, “Why blood?”

I shrugged, “It doesn’t seem polite to ask.”

She stared at me for a moment, then frowned slightly, “Are _you_ going dancing?”

I glanced over her shoulder at my family, who had stopped near the stop of the steep hill to greet some other fae.

I looked back at her and gave her a gentle smile, “I’d rather walk home, it’s been a long day.”

At the top of the hill now, Mor stopped and turned to look back at us. I gave her a shake of my head and she waved her hand in goodnight. I watched Cassian drop back to talk to Azriel and they paused as well to wave at us.

Looking to Feyre, I gestured to her, “Shall we? Or are you too cold?” I wanted to have the stroll with her, I always wanted more time with her, but if she was too cold or tired, I would fly her home instead. 

For a moment she looked as though she wanted the easy route, but then shook her head and started walking. I fell in beside her, wanting to offer her my arm, wanted to feel her pressed beside me… patient, I had to be patient.

We walked for a few feet, and then I felt her stumble beside me, and I stopped to look at her, confused, before I followed her gaze and spotted the Rainbow. My heart tightened as she stared at it with a face that was both hungry and painful.

I swallowed and stepped around her, walking to the metal railing that ran along the river walkway and leaned against it as I looked towards the artists quarter and all of the fae, many just as colorful as the buildings they hovered around.

“This is my favorite view in the city,” I told her as I felt her hesitate, then come up to stand beside me, her hands tucked into her coat and her face guarded. I swallowed once and offered Feyre a part of my soul that still sorrowed, “It was my sister’s favorite, too. My father used to have to drag her kicking and screaming out of Velaris, she loved it so much.”

Feyre glanced at me, and seemed uncertain at how to respond, then finally asked, “Then why are both your houses on the other side of the river?”

I smiled a little, “Because I wanted a quiet street – so I could visit this clamor whenever I wished and then have a home to retreat to.”

She stared at me, as though shocked at so normal an answer, “You could have just reordered the city.”

I looked at her and almost laughed, “Why the hell would I change one thing about this place?”

“Isn’t that what High Lords do?” She said, almost coldly, almost accusing me. “Whatever they please?”

Her accusation hurt, but I understood why she said it – between what Tamlin had done, and my poor decision earlier today… She didn’t realize however, all of the things I didn’t do, all the things I desperately wanted, that might technically be within my reach, but that I withheld myself from taking. Her for instance… Any other High Lord who had been Mated to her would have just taken her – just claimed her without giving her the choice. I would not do that to her – she was free, and I would have her no other way. 

“There are a great many thing,” I told her quietly, “that I wish to do, and don’t get to.”

She shifted, as though uncomfortable, “So when you buy jewelry for Amren, is it to keep yourself in her good graces or because you’re – together?”

I let out a short sharp laugh, was that something she had honestly worried about?

“When I was young and stupid,” I told her with amusement, “I once invited her to my bed. She laughed herself hoarse.” I grinned at the memory – at the time I had been mortified, “The jewelry is just because I enjoy buying it for a friend who works hard for me, and has my back when I need it. Staying in her good graces is an added bonus.”

Her eyes turned wary, “And you didn’t marry anyone.”

I froze for a second at that question, then managed a response, attempting to deflect, “So many questions tonight.”

She just stared at me, and I let out a low sigh – damn the woman, she always asked questions that demand I reveal too much of myself, and the terrible thing was, I wanted to tell her these things. Just… just not like this, where she was only asking in an effort to sort out her world, and not really because of an interest in me.

“I’ve had lovers, but I never felt tempted to invite on them to share a life with me.” I shrugged, and looked away from her, back to the Rainbow, and gave her a terrible truth, “And I honestly think that if I’d asked, they all would have said no.”

I felt her confusion as she stated matter-of-factly, “I would have thought they’d be fighting each other to win your hand.”

My mother’s words came back to me then…

… _you will come across many women who will want to marry you – for your title, your wealth, your looks. These women will not survive you, will not survive the darkness in which you will always be forced to live…_

She had been right, my mother, carefree and wild, she had known the truth; perhaps even before I had been born.

I looked back towards her, meeting her gaze, glimmering in the lights of Velaris, and told her the truth – a warning.

“Marrying me means a life with a target on your back – and if there were offspring, then a life of knowing they’d be hunted from the moment they were conceived. Everyone knows what happened to my family – and my people know that beyond our borders, we are hated.”

She frowned slightly, “Why? Why are you hated? Why keep the truth of this place secret? It’s a shame no one knows about it – what good you do here.”

I half smiled at her, and slid my hand into my pockets, glancing around my city again as I said, “There was a time when the Night Court _was_ a Court of Nightmares and was ruled from Hewn City. Long ago. But an ancient High Lord had a different vision, and rather than allowing the world to see his territory vulnerable at a time of change, he sealed the borders and staged a coup, eliminating the worst of the courtiers and predators, building Velaris for the dreamers, establishing trade and peace.”

My demeanor turned hard, thinking back on the history of my land, thinking back on the hard choices my forefathers had made. Hard choices… that was the legacy of my crown, not power and riches, but hard choices and equally hard consequences.

Taking a breath, I continued quietly, “To preserve it he kept it a secret, and so did his offspring, and their offspring. There are many spells on the city itself – laid by him, and his Heirs, that make those who trade here unable to spill our secrets, and grant them adept kills at lying in order to keep the origin of their goods, their ships, hidden from the rest of the world. Rumor has it that ancient High Lord cast his very life’s blood upon the stones and river to keep that spell eternal.”

I paused, and glanced past her, towards the distant mountains where Hewn City lay, “But along the way, despite his best intentions, darkness grew again – not as bad as it had once been… But bad enough that there is a permanent divide within my court. We allow the world to see the other half, to fear them – so that they might never guess this place thrives here.” I looked back towards her, meeting her gaze, “And we allow the Court of Nightmares to continue, blind to Velaris’s existence, because we know that without them, there are some courts and kingdoms that might strike us. And invade our borders to discover the many, many secrets we’ve kept from the other High Lords and courts these millennia.”

She shook her head a little, and asked one final time, as though she still could not believe it, “So truly none of the others know? In the other courts?”

I shook my head, “Not a soul. You will not find it on a single map, or mentioned in any book beyond those written here. Perhaps it is our loss to be so contained and isolated, but…” I paused, looking around the city again, and gestured, “My people do not seem to be suffering much for it.”

Feyre looked around as well, taking it all in again, the life and prosperity of my people and something in her eyes softened. When she finally looked back at me though, there was a slight frown on her face, “Are you worried about Az going to the mortal lands tomorrow?" 

I almost smiled at her calling him Az, it was the first time she had shortened his name. She had been nervous around him at first, which wasn’t unusual, and he tend to use that to his advantage with most other people, but never with his family. It was nice to see, however, that she was beginning to relax around them.

I shifted, leaning against the railing again, “Of course I am. But Azriel has infiltrated places far more harrowing than a few mortal courts.” I smirked a little, “He’d find my worrying insulting.”

She glanced down at the frigid Sidra waters, and appeared to hesitate for a moment, then asked quietly, “Does he mind what he does? Not the spying, I mean. What he did to the Attor today.”

I let out a slow breath and stood up, looking down at her, though she did not meet my gaze, “It’s hard to tell with him – and he’d never tell me.”

She finally looked up at me, and the sight of her eyes calmed the guilt roiling inside of me. Not for what we did to the Attor, I’d do that again without a second thought, but for Azriel always being put in the position to do it. He never hesitated or complained, but I wondered sometimes what it did to an already tortured soul, to sometimes have to torture others. 

“I’ve witnessed Cassian rip apart opponents and then puke his guts up once the carnage stopped, sometimes even mourn them. But Azriel…” I shook my head once, “Cassian tries, I try – but I think the only person who ever gets him to admit to any sort of feeling is Mor. And that’s only when she’s pestered him to the point where even his infinite patience has run out.”

Her brows furrowed slightly, “But he and Mor – they never…?”

I smirked a little, “That’s between them – and Cassian. I’m not stupid or arrogant enough to get in the middle of it.”

Almost as if in agreement, though we had fallen silent, we both turned away from the railing and continued walking, crossing the bridge we had originally taken from the town house. I could see Feyre beginning to struggle from the steep climb, her breathing coming hard and her brow damp despite the chill. I was about to offer another way home when she stopped dead in her tracks.

I had paced a step or two forward before I realized she had stopped, that was how sudden her movements had been. I turned to look back at her, confused, and saw she had turned to look at something. I lifted my head to see what it was, and felt my body go rigid as the sound hit me first, before I even saw the small band playing. 

It was the song I had sent into Feyre’s mind while she had been locked in her cell, days before her final trial. In those days I had practically lived in her mind, though she never knew I was there. Her thoughts had been so dark it had been easy to settle amongst them unseen. I had watched her slowly breaking, hour by hour, minute by minute. I had tracked the cracks in her mind, like cracks in the ice of a frozen lake, as they splintered through her, shattering her beneath terror and despair. There had been no way for me to help her, of saving her, and I had been desperate.

Out of a shadowy place in my own mind, where I kept hidden the few things left to me that I sometimes used to keep myself from shattering all those many years Under the Mountain, I had sent her this song. It was ancient, legend saying that it had existed before Prythian had been called such, and it always reminded me of the peace and beauty that was Velaris. When she heard the song, in her cell, I had felt those cracks go still – they didn’t go away, but they had not spread, and she had not shattered completely; the realization of that had brought me nearly to tears back then.

“You,” she whispered, and I swallowed hard as she continued to stare at the musicians. “You sent that music into my cell. Why?”

“Because,” I said hoarsely, “you were breaking. And I couldn’t find another way to save you.”

She was quiet for another immeasurable minute, all the while I waited, breathless, for her reaction.

“I saw the Night Court,” she finally said, and tilted her head to look at me, eyes wide and searching.

I shook my head once, hands fisted tight in my pockets, “I didn’t send those images to you.”

She stared at me, long and hard, and I felt… I felt like she was seeing _me_ again. Not the mask I always wore, but who I was beneath it, and it made my soul tremble in terror and hope.

“Thank you,” she said slowly. “For everything – for what you did. Then… and now.”

I was close to shattering in that moment, close to completely dissolving before her. Because the relief her thanks gave me, and the guilt at what I had done to her Under the Mountain, what I had done to her today even, warred so strongly within me I thought I would be ripped apart.

I struggled to hold myself together, and asked, because I had to know, “Even after the Weaver? After this morning with my trap for the Attor?”

She suddenly scowled at me, “You ruin everything.” 

I wanted to laugh and cry and knew that the guilt was going to win out in the end, it always did. I grinned at her though, her scowl always amused me – I had that much at least. I walked up to her, and this time without asking, I scooped her up into my arms. Spreading my wings, I crouched and launched into the sky, beating my wings until I caught a current and twisted us on it to the town house, landing on the roof minutes later.

I sat her down carefully, and she glanced up at me, shoving her hands back into her pockets before she said, “Thank you… for dinner, it was nice. Velaris is… beautiful.”

I smiled at her, “You’re welcome, Feyre. Thank you for letting me show you.”

She didn’t smile, but she nodded her head and made her way inside. I stood there, watching at her walk away, and felt that guilt gnawing at me again. Letting out a breath, I reached up, running my hand through my hair, and looked up at the sky above me. My wings were still slightly flared, the cold night air brushing over them, making me shiver a little. I thought about taking to the sky, like I used to most every night, letting the stars and the sky soothe me… but I realized… I realized there was nowhere I would rather be, than in this house, with Feyre, even if we were in different rooms.

Ah Feyre… she had said the food had made her feel awake. And she had talked and joked with my friends, hesitantly perhaps, but she had reached out – she had put herself out there in fact. She was alive – she was living in fact, and she was healing. She had thanked me… perhaps, perhaps she was beginning to forgive me… if she knew the full truth, she might forgive me quicker; or she might hate me forever.

I shook my head once, and made my way inside, tugging my wings in close to keep them out of the way. The hallway was dark and empty, though I noticed there was still dim light shining beneath her door as I strode down the hall to my room and stepped inside, shutting the door behind me. I stripped out of my clothing, and dropped them the hamper, then pulled on a pair of dark blue sleep pants before walking to my small desk against the window and sat in front of it, staring down at a blank piece of paper as an idea was forming in my head.

This… was a bad idea. Likely one of the worst ideas I had had since… well, this morning. My mind roared for patience, she deserved patience, and time to heal – my body though… it yearned for her. The hours we had spent together, in the mortal realm, and then tonight – they had not been enough. No amount of time with her would ever be enough, and I was not ready to let go of her for the night – and I desperately, _desperately_ wanted to flirt with her. It was stupid and selfish, and… and damnit, I was doing this.

I picked up my pen, and wrote quickly on the page, before I could think too hard about it:

 

_I might be a shameless flirt, but at least I don’t have a horrible temper._

_You should come tend to my wounds from our squabble in the snow._

_I’m bruised all over thanks to you._

 

Like earlier in the day, I threaded a tendril of darkness in the page, so that if she responded I would feel it, and know to summon the page back. Folding it in half, and half again, I took a deep breath, and then winnowed it into her room, tracking it to where I could see her on the bed, reading, and landed it between the pages of her book. I winnowed the pen to her room as well, settling it on her nightstand so she wouldn’t have to get out of bed, or have an excuse not to respond.

Seconds later, I felt her write on the page and then stop. I winnowed the page to myself, and laughed as I read her hastily written response:

 

_Go lick your wounds and leave me be._

 

I grinned widely, and despite my best efforts felt my mind suddenly spiral down into those predatorial thoughts I sometimes had about her… Imagining her full lips again, but now imagining her tongue sliding between them, and the touch of them on my lips as she kissed me back… and kissed me lower. I closed my eyes, and a low groan escaped me. This… this was a very, very bad idea.

Breathing unsteadily, I opened my eyes and wrote the next line, my hand nearly shaking:

 

_I’d much rather you licked my wounds for me._

 

I winnowed the page to her and sagged back in my chair, trembling with nervous, desperate excitement. In the next moment I felt a shimmer go down our bond, a sudden rush of… something. Whatever it was, it made my heart race and my skin feel tight and hot.

I felt her write again, then stop, and I summoned the page back. The next words threatened to send me flying from my room to hers:

 

_Lick you where, exactly?_

 

For one minute I was not the controlled, patient High Lord of Night, but the beast that lived within, feral and predatory, and on the hunt. She was my Mate and I wanted her… _now._  

Gripping the edge of my desk hard enough I could hear the wood groaning, I swallowed hard and forced myself to breath slowly, willing my mind and body to calm. It took several – several minutes to work myself down from the frenzy, back to a respectable level of excited, mostly flirtatious. I could feel it though, that wild, dangerous excitement burning just below the thin veneer of calm I had erected in my mind. Carefully, I penned a response and sent it:

 

_Wherever you want to lick me, Feyre._

_I’d like to start with “Everywhere”, but I can choose, if necessary._

 

Her replies, all far quicker than my own, so cleverly manipulated me without her even attempting to do so: 

 

_Let’s hope my licking is better than yours._

_I remember how horrible you were at it Under the Mountain._

 

My body went from hot to cold in that instant and I found myself having to re-read her message over and over, trying to decide if it was teasing or accusatory. I eventually gave up, and kept with the teasing:

 

_I was under duress._

_If you want, I’d be more than happy to prove you wrong._

_I’ve been told I’m very, very good at licking._

 

Her response, quick as always, was short and did not give me much to go on – was she angry? Or amused? I had no idea.

 

_Goodnight._

 

I had already made the bad decision, and I was always one to follow through with my decisions, I might as well stay consistent. Shaking my head at my foolhardiness, I responded, quicker than I had before:

 

_Try not to moan too loudly when you dream about me._

_I need my beauty rest._

The next thing I felt was her tossing the paper into the fire, and reaching out with a tendril of darkness - because I was desperate to know if I had ruined things between us – I peered into her room, quickly enough that I saw her make a vulgar gesture at the fire. 

Drawing the darkness back I laughed out loud, beyond relieved. Setting my pen aside, I got up and climbed into bed, feeling more light hearted than I had in months.

Ah, Feyre… my dreams tonight would be, interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This endeavor is my first ever fanfiction attempt, and it has been a blast to play with so far.
> 
> I would love to see your comments about what I'm writing!
> 
> So please hit me up with what you think! - Otter


	6. A Lesson in Darkness and Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: If you have not read A Court of Mist and Fury by Sarah J. Maas I strongly suggest you go read it first - it's undoubtedly better written and what I have written will spoil the book for you.
> 
> I am re-writing all of ACOMAF from Rhysand's perspective, using all of the original characters/scenes/dialogue, and adding in new bits and bobs to flesh his story out more.
> 
> This Section:  
> Ch. 1 - Rhysand buys jewelry for Feyre and makes plans (New scene)  
> Ch. 2 - Rhysand meets the Archeron sisters for the first time  
> Ch. 3 - Feyre tries to train but is attacked by the Attor (Partial new scene)  
> Ch. 4 - Escorting the sisters to mail the letter, and questioning the Attor (Partial new scene)  
> Ch. 5 - A night out on the town - dinner in Velaris  
> Ch. 6 - Feyre trains with Cassian, then trains her magic with Rhysand (Partial new scene)  
> Ch. 7 - A night at the club, a plan to visit the Summer Court, lunch with Feyre and a night playing cards at the bar (Several new scenes)
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> *Disclaimer - I do not take credit for the any of the characters or the world created by Sarah J. Maas.

I woke up later the next morning, from dreams that were both pleasant and gruesome, and trying to distinguish between the two had left me feeling vaguely unrested. Sitting on the edge of the bed and running my hand through my hair, I realized that the best night sleep I’d had recently was the night Feyre and I had shared a room, in her family’s house. There had been something about feeling her so close, being able to count her breaths and smell her, warm and alive, that had soothed the yawning emptiness inside of me.

I let out a long breath and stood up, padding to my bathroom to get ready for the day. Within less than an hour I was groomed and dressed, in one of my sets of Illyrian leathers, and heading downstairs. Walking into the dining room I was surprised to find Feyre already there, dressed in her own leathers, and steadily working through a plate of food. She looked up as I entered, and her eyes were bright, the dark shadows under her eyes were even paler than before, and her hair – still a little curly from the night before – was braided back.

“Good morning,” I said as I gave her a warm smile and walked around the table to sit opposite her.

She reached over for the pot of tea and poured a cup, adding a spoonful of sugar, and handed it to me – and froze at my stunned expression.

“What? Was that wrong?” She frowned a little, “I thought you only liked one spoonful of sugar.”

I swallowed, and finally reached out, taking the cup from her, “No, that’s right. I… didn’t realize you noticed was all.”

She still looked a little confused at my reaction, but raised a brow, “You always remember that I like a splash of milk – I can at least manage to be as considerate as you.”

There was a glimmer of amusement in her eyes at that comment. Mother above… she was _teasing_ me, my heart threatened to pound its way out of my chest entirely.

Leaning back in my seat I grinned at her a little, “I’m impressed, being as considerate of me is hard work. You certainly seem dressed for it today, do you have plans to conquer the world or something?”

She rolled her eyes and took another bite of food, while I sipped at my tea and swore it was the best cup of tea I had ever tasted in my long life.

“No,” she answered after swallowing, “last night Cassian told me that you all often trained in the morning. He said he would train me, so I want to go with you.”

She wasn’t asking, she was demanding, she was putting herself out there – and she did not look as though she would accept being told no. In fact, she looked like she would go climbing those ten thousand steps to the House of Wind if I even tried to tell her no.

Radiant – she was positively radiant.

Setting my cup down, reluctantly, I reached for a platter and scrapped some eggs onto my plate while I tried to organize my thoughts into something resembling coherency.

“Of course,” I finally said, “we train most mornings if we can, and the sessions are open to everyone in our little circle. Cassian is adamant that everyone practices with some regularity, and it’s a good rule. Unless there is an emergency at one of the camps he should be there, and if not, I can help you with the basics – he might be the best fighter out of all of us, but I’m not too shabby myself.”

She looked curious, and picked up her tea, taking a sip then asked, “Amren as well?” 

I let out a chuckle, adding some sausage and fruit to my plate, “Oh yes, though we had Cassian train her out in the mountains away from any form of civilization. Just in case he managed to piss her off so much she decided to explode a mountain range or two.”

Feyre’s eyes widened, and I grinned as I took a bite of food.

“Could she-?” She asked, a little frightened again.

Chewing, I swallowed and shrugged, “Probably, I haven’t exactly asked her to show me the full extent of her power.”

Feyre shook her head slowly, staring at me for a moment, then turned her attention back to her own plate, polishing it off and then adding more food.

We ate in silence for several minutes before I asked, “Did you enjoy yourself last night?”

She glanced up at me, taking her last bite of food, chewing and swallowing, then pushed her plate aside. Finally, she nodded, leaning back in her chair, “Yes, it was fun. The food was new, I’ve never tasted spices like those before. Attael… she was very nice; you must go there often.”

“We used to, before,” I shrugged and Feyre’s shoulders tensed slightly. “Dinner there, then go to a bar to drink and dance, with Cassian groaning the entire time, and Mor dancing until the sun came up.”

I took another bite of food, and watched as Feyre shifted in her seat, looking… uncertain, hesitant. I arched a brow at her and she glanced away, “If I wanted to get in touch with one of the others, how would I go about doing that?”

Frowning a little, I put my fork down – I wasn’t bothered that she might want to talk to them on her own, just upset I hadn’t told her how she could.

“Nuala or Cerridwen can get a message to any of them just about anywhere in my lands near instantly – it’s often how I contact them myself. And you can trust their discretion absolutely.”

She looked back at me again, relaxing a little, but asked, “You don’t just speak to them mind-to-mind?”

I shrugged, “I can speak to them mind-to-mind, from quite a long distance away, but I try to reserve that for private conversations or when one of us is outside the range of the Night Court lands.”

She nodded, reaching up to run her finger over the handle on her tea cup, seeming to think about that. After a moment she looked up at me, “Will I be able to do that? The distance I mean.”

I crossed my arms over my chest, and shrugged again, “I’m not sure, there isn’t an exact formula for being daemati, the strength of the gift is different in each person. I’m uniquely powerful, but it isn’t precisely dependent on me being High Lord or Illyrian or any specific factor. With time and practice you could be stronger than I am – but we won’t know until you’ve been better tested.” I smiled at her gently, “You’re only six months into being fae, there is time to find out what your strengths and weaknesses are.” 

She frowned at that and leaned forward, meeting my gaze solidly, “Not with Hybern looming. I need to learn, and I need to learn fast.”

And she was absolutely right – and there was no time better than right now to start. I grinned at her, then stood up and walked around the table, holding a hand out to her.

“You’re right. Ready to get started?”

She stared at me, then stood up and took my hand, stepping into the circle of my arms. Flexing my wings, I leaned my head towards hers ever so slightly and took in the scent of her, before swirling up the darkness around us and winnowing above the House of Wind. Pulling the darkness back inside, I snapped my wings out, circling us down to the expansive flat rock where Cassian and Azriel were already sparing.

Landing lightly on the rough stone, I kept my arms around Feyre a minute longer than usual, and she didn’t pull away – though she didn’t look at me either. Her attention was caught up with watching Cassian and Azriel going at each other with their swords. I dropped my arms and watched her face as she took in the sight of them, her brows narrowed in concentration.

Leaning towards her I spoke quietly, “Cassian is all brute strength in his fighting, he holds nothing back. Azriel is more subtle, elegant even, he tends to hold back for the unexpected blow.”

She glanced back at me and raised a brow, “And you?”

I smiled and shrugged, “A bit of the two in my opinion, but I’m sure Cassian would say something disparaging.”

She studied me a moment, running her gaze along the length of my body, as though looking for proof of what I could do. I had to hold my body rigid to avoid shivering beneath her gaze and managed to just arch a brow at her in silent question – _what do you see?_ She shook her head, as though refusing to answer, and turned away from me, looking back to the duel in front of us. I smirked a little, though there was a surge of disappointment that she hadn’t answered.

Returning my attention back to my brothers, I watched as they twisted and danced their way across the red stone, holding nothing back, but I could tell the final moment was coming up just by the way their bodies moved. A moment later Cassian brought his sword down towards Azriel’s neck, which he blocked with an up thrust of his sword – and in his other hand a dagger pressed towards Cassian’s rib cage.

They both froze, breathing hard, and then Cassian grinned and stepped back, “You are still a wicked beast in close quarter combat.”

Azriel gave him a stiff smile and re-sheathed both blades, “You’re better in the chaos of a battle-field than I am.”

They both turned then to see us then, and Cassian grinned widely, “Feyre! Are you ready to call me a prick?" 

Feyre snorted, and Cassian sheathed his blade, while I stepped around Feyre and walked over to Azriel. I eyed him, and he did not look to be in a good mood, his body was stiff and his eyes dark, the shadows clinging tightly to him.

“How was the mortal court?” I asked him softly.

Feyre glanced at us, but Cassian gestured her over. She walked towards him and he looked her up and down, inspecting her before he said, “I’ve been thinking about where we should start.”

Azriel let out a low breath, “It did not go well. The entire palace is… warded, but in a way I’ve never seen before. It’s as though the wards are laid into the architecture of the building. I couldn’t even begin to get close enough.”

Feyre shifted on her feet and waited, while Cassian crossed his arms, “We may not have a lot of time to teach you, so the first thing we need to work on is defense and escape. Once you have those down well enough, we’ll work on offense.” 

I listened to Cassian and Feyre’s conversation with one ear, while listening to Azriel with the other, and frowned at his assessment. “That does not bode well for us. The Bone Carver said friendly fae warded the Book, perhaps they helped ward the palace as well. If you can’t physically get close, what are our other options?”

Feyre frowned a little, but nodded, “I suppose that makes sense. Tell me what you want me to do.”

Cassian walked over to the side where a bench sat and picked up a roll of gauze before returning to her. “Hands up,” he said, and when she complied, he began to wrap her hands, explaining, “this will help reduce the damage to your hands as you learn hand-to-hand combat.”

Azriel nodded stiffly, “I'm not sure yet, but I have some ideas. The feel of the wards was… off somehow. I want to be cautious with them.”

Running a hand through my hair, I nodded and glanced over at Feyre and Cassian, watching him wrap her hands. After a moment, I returned my gaze to Azriel, “I know you will do your best, be as cautious as you need to be – I would rather get the Book from them through honesty than deceit in the long run.” I gave him a half smile, then asked, “Have time for another bout? I can wait for Cassian if you planned to head out now.”

With her hands wrapped, Cassian began to show her how to close her hands into fists, explaining what part of the hand she should punch with. Then he gestured to her legs and began to explain the importance of paying attention to her stance, how positioning her legs and feet would affect the power and stability of her hit, pausing to touch a hand to her stomach lightly and talk about her core muscles. Feyre remained quiet through the explanation, listening closely and adjusting her body as he guided her.

In response Azriel drew his sword again, nodding his head once, “I have time.”

Giving him a brief smile, I had a feeling the bout we were about to have was going to be… strenuous. Reaching up I unbuttoned and removed my shirt and tossing it down on a nearby bench and drew my own blade, trying to clear my mind of my swirling thoughts - most of which centered around Feyre, and took my stance. A moment later Azriel attacked, quick and sudden, a little unusual for him to lead the attack but the look in his eyes explained the frustration burning inside of him. I brought up my sword and blocked him, shifting my position and twisted away, using the momentum to bring my sword down towards him. We were soon locked in combat, attacking and defending, back and forth in a deadly dance of bare steel.

A small part of my thoughts still remained on Feyre, I simply could not banish her entirely from my mind – she held safe harbor there and I could not bear to turn her away. I would glimpse them on occasion, Cassian lecturing and demonstrating a move, and Feyre watching and mimicking them. Her body struggled to obey, from lack of experience, yes, but also from the damage lack of sleep and near starvation had done to her – though she never gave up. She did not get frustrated and throw in the towel, she simply pushed through, step after step with Cassian being a ruthless task-master, but an almost unexpectedly compassionate.

Azriel pushed me hard, his own frustration driving his movements – still fluid and elegant, almost beautiful in their base nature. I soon found myself sweating and breathing hard, my muscles straining and burning. Nearly fifty years Under the Mountain without the freedom to practice with actual weapons or against anyone had left my body supremely out of shape – not that I would admit it out loud.

I had tried to combat the loss of muscle memory by practicing empty handed in my room each day, tried to remember the placement of my feet and how to turn my body. Around ten years into my imprisonment however it became difficult to convince myself to keep practicing, twenty years in and I was managing only a couple of days a week at best, at thirty years I hardly practiced at all, forty years in I had given up on it entirely.

It wasn’t until nearly the end of the fifty years I started again, driven by some unseen force to try, but my muscle memory had become dulled and my movements were stunted and uncertain. When we were finally free and I returned home, I had gone off on my own, trying to practice by myself, to regain what I had lost. After two weeks I had despaired at it, and finally went to Cassian – who had been waiting for me patiently -

_“I’m not surprised you need some extra help Rhys, it’s nothing to be ashamed of – but we’ll practice in private until you feel comfortable joining us in the morning again.” He had clapped me on my shoulder, and I had never been more grateful to my brother._

It had taken a month or more to re-awaken my muscles, and I had ached through every awful moment of it. Another month before I was treading water, and it had only been a week or so before Feyre’s wedding before I felt comfortable re-joining the morning practice sessions. I rarely missed a morning practice anymore – the last few days being an exception – and every day I could feel more of my skill and strength coming back. To see Azriel pushing me hard, and being able to hold ground against him, left me with a feeling of success and pride.

Over the clash of our blades I could hear Cassian, he had been showing Feyre how to punch, having her strike against the pads on his hands but paused to correct her now.

“This is because you’re hitting on the wrong knuckles,” he admonished her, though I couldn’t see what caused him to do so. “Top two – pointer and middle finger – that’s where the punches should connect. Hitting here will do more damage to you than to your opponent. You’re lucky the Attor didn’t want to get into a fistfight.”

I winced internally at that comment and wondered if Feyre would explode at him – but she said nothing. I ducked a swing of Azriel’s blade, and twisted around behind him in the same movement, pivoting and aiming at his unprotected back. He twisted hard out of the way and just barely managed to get his blade up to block mine, a flash of something like amusement crossed his face before he lunged at me again.

“Get a drink,” I heard Cassian say, “then we’re working on your core. No point in learning to punch if you can’t even hold your stance.”

I felt her eyes on me then, felt her gaze sliding over me and Azriel, and was nearly distracted by it. Azriel took the opportunity to snag a dagger from his thigh harness and twist it up in a move similar to the one he used on Cassian – but I had seen him use that move and brought the pommel of my sword down against his hand, knocking the dagger out of his grip and kicked it to the side, out of the way.

“We get the tattoos when we’re initiated as Illyrian warriors – for luck and glory on the battlefield,” Cassian was explaining to her. I felt a tremor down the bond between us then, something akin to shock and realization and I wondered what thought they were tied to.

The feeling of her gaze continuing to wash over me made it difficult to focus and Azriel pushed me hard because of it, driving me back and forcing me to use several desperate maneuvers to hold him off.

Cassian continued on, even though Feyre wasn’t responding to him, “Rhys is out of shape and won’t admit it, but Azriel is too polite to beat him into the dirt.”

I gritted my teeth and held my ground, and began to push back at Azriel, harder, my muscles burning and lungs aching, but I forced him to retreat one step, then two.

“So,” Cassian said suddenly, without an ounce of tact in his voice. “When are you going to talk about how you wrote a letter to Tamlin, telling him you’ve left for good.”

My mind froze, but my reflexes must have been ingrained enough that I managed to block the swing that Azriel aimed for my legs, twisting my blade up and sending his sliding off to the side while I mentally cursed Azriel and Cassian and the universe in general.

The air around the practice grounds turned decidedly colder, and I heard Feyre snap back at him sharply, “How about when you talk about how you tease and taunt Mor to hide whatever it is you feel for her?”

It was then that Azriel’s movements lost their fluid grace and his feet stumbled a moment – he had been paying attention as well then, not surprising. He quickly resumed though, refusing to let his stumble detract from his overall attack.

Cassian laughed roughly, “Old news.”

Feyre nearly snarled, “I have a feeling that’s what she probably says about you.”

I winced again; it was a good comeback, but I knew Cassian would not appreciate the snark.

“Get back in the ring,” Cassian said coolly, and I had been right. “No core exercises. Just fists. You want to mouth off, then back it up.”

I suddenly reached out to Azriel’s mind on pure instinct, an instinct driven entirely by my connection to Feyre, and brushed a thought over his mind –

_Shift positions and slow your attacks, I need to see her – it’s vital._

He didn’t question me, though his eyes did flash with surprise before they quieted. Twisting, he gave me the space to turn enough that I could see them better and slowed his movements down, giving me time to respond and deflect as the majority of my mind went to watching Feyre.

She hadn’t moved from the benches, and she was looking at Cassian with a face twisted with emotions, “Rhys told you?”

Cassian’s anger at her sharp retort had drained away entirely, and he looked slightly concerned as he explained, “He informed Azriel, who is… monitoring things and needs to know. Az told me.”

I parried Azriel’s swing to my midsection, and aimed one towards his knees, frowning with my split concentration.

“I assume it was while you were out drinking and dancing,” she said sharply, embarrassed and angry at having been talked about in regard to something so personal. She sat down her glass and began to stalk towards the ring, her shoulders hunched slightly.

Cassian picked up on her emotions immediately, and reached out to grab her wrist, holding her back, “Hey. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hit a nerve.” He let her wrist go and met her gaze, holding it, “Az only told me because _I_ needed to know for my own forces; to know what to expect. None of us…”

He paused, looking for the words, then continued slowly, “We don’t think it’s a joke. What you did was a hard call. A really damn hard call. It was just my shitty way of trying to see if you needed to talk about it. I’m sorry.”

Azriel’s gaze flickered over to Cassian and Feyre, hearing their conversation just as clearly as I did. He met my gaze again, confident in his decision to share with Cassian what I had told him was private – probably a correct decision in the long run – and yet remorseful at the pain he had known it would cause. I gave him a subtle nod, forgiveness and understanding in a single, silent gesture.

“All right,” I heard Feyre say before she walked back into the circle and Cassian followed.

He held up a pair of sparring pads on his hands, “Thirty one-two punches; then forty; then fifty.”

I saw her wince but lift her hands and position her feet. 

“You didn’t answer my question,” he said with a tentative smile.

She stepped, leaning her weight into her legs, and punched with her left side – far more fluid than she had before. “I’m fine,” she finally responded – with a voice that sounded anything but – then she twisted and punched with her right fist.

“One,” Cassian counted, and as she struck again, he said, “Two. And fine is good – fine is great.”

I felt it then, felt the roiling emotions inside of her, they were welling up like a flood and pushing against the damn she had built to hold them back. With my left hand I made a subtle gesture, calling for an immediate cease of attack, and instantly Azriel pulled his blow and stood back, watching. I turned from him to face Cassian and Feyre entirely, watching her – watching her fall apart bit by bit. She became lost in her thoughts, and her body was reacting without any conscious command, following the last orders it had been given. Her power, reacting to the surge of emotion inside of her began to race through her veins and I could feel it swelling up and pushing outward. 

I watched with my heart breaking and bleeding for her as she began to sob. Her power surged to her hands and wrapped them in fire, and I watched as she punched through the mitts Cassian wore, burning through them. Cassian didn’t stop her, didn’t say a word, he only activated his Siphons with a silent command and slid a shield around his hands to protect himself and continued to hold his palms up for her. He would have let her beat him bloody, if it helped her work out this pain inside of her, and never hold a grudge against her for it.

But when her hands connected against his bare flesh, it was as though that contact woke her from the spell her grief and anger had woven around her and she saw what she had done – and a brief look of horror flashed over her face. Cassian continued to hold his hands up for her – prepared to take her next hit. With absolute calm and infinite kindness, he said, “I’m alright.”

She locked her gaze on his, the tears still falling, her body trembling with her near silent sobs, and after a minute she whispered, “I killed them.”

Cassian’s face went solemn – not with condemnation, but grim understanding. “I know,” he said quietly.

Her hands fell and another sob began to choke through her body, and she gasped out, “It should have been me.”

And without a single conscious thought on my part, I was instantly at her side – ran or winnowed, I had no idea, but I was there; Cassian, bless him, had the forethought to move aside, letting me take his place.

I spread my wings, lifting them and wrapping them around both of us, cocooning her in darkness and privacy, and simultaneously spun my darkness up around us, creating a shield to keep our voices trapped inside. I lifted a hand, pressing my fingers under her chin and lifting her head gently. Her liquid eyes met mine and the sight of them, of the tears soaking her cheeks, and the absolute despair on her face made my heart throb in pain.

_Oh Feyre…_

I leaned towards her slightly, risking a brush of my thumb across her cheek, wiping away a tear; faintly in the background I could hear metal clashing, Cassian and Azriel had begun to spar again. 

“You will feel that way every day for the rest of your life,” I said to her quietly. She tried to look away from me, unwilling to accept my truth, but I held her chin, and continued to meet her gaze – I had known this same guilt, and wanted her to understand and accept my experience as both truth and hope. “And I know this because I have felt that way every day since my mother and sister were slaughtered and I had to bury them myself, and even retribution didn’t fix it.”

I lifted my other hand, and risked touching her again, wiping tears from both of her cheeks now, cupping her face gently in my hands. She was so warm and soft, and so very beautiful. Her grief did not diminish her, it only made her radiance shine brighter, like the darkness of night revealing the brilliance of the stars.

“You can either let it wreck you,” I told her calmly, “let it get you killed like it nearly did with the Weaver, or you can learn to live with it.” 

She stared at me for a long, long moment, her gaze searching mine, and I opened to her, everything that I was in that moment – let her see the truth of me.

She finally swallowed hard and managed to rasp quietly, “I’m sorry - about your family.”

I brushed my thumb over her cheek again, wiping away an errant tear, and whispered the words I had been longing to say to her since the Bone Carver – since before then.

“I’m sorry I didn’t find a way to spare you from what happened Under the Mountain. From dying. From _wanting_ to die.”

She began to shake her head, trying to deny me any responsibility, any blame, but I held her firm. Leaning a little closer to her I told her another truth, sharing with her how broken I was as well, “I have two kinds of nightmares: the ones where I’m again Amarantha’s whore or my friends are… and the ones where I hear your neck snap and see the light leave your eyes.”

She stared at me, her blue-grey eyes dark pools of liquid, and I knew my words had shocked her out of any response. I lowered my hands from her face finally and watched instead as she slid her gaze over me, caressing me with it as she drank in the sight of me – bare chested and sweat covered. My heart was pounding hard in my chest and became mildly amused when her gaze went no lower than my waist – as though restraining herself from dangerous territory. Then, as if in errant thought, she lifted a hand to look at her burned hand wraps, frowning a little. 

“Ah,” I said as I drew my wings back then, folding them behind me, and released the shield that had enclosed us, taking the darkness back inside. “That.”

Her eyes squinted from the flood of sunlight, now that my wings were tucked away, “Autumn court, right?”

I reached up and took her hand, cupping it gently and examining it – noting the bruises around her knuckles from her improper punches, but no burns. “Right. A gift form it’s High Lord, Beron.”

She made a face at that name, and I couldn’t but agree; he was a sanctimonious bastard. I continued to hold her hand gently – she didn’t pull away, and I savored the touch of her skin, limited though it was.

“I’m not well versed in the complexities of the other High Lords’ elemental gifts,” I admitted to her, “but we can figure it out – day by day, if need be.”

She tilted her head, looking from our joined hands to my face, studying me for a moment before she asked, “If you’re the most powerful High Lord in history… does that mean the drop I got from you holds more sway over the others?”

I smiled a little at the thought – clever girl. 

“Give it a try,” I said, jerking my chin at her, “See if you can summon darkness.” I grinned at her playfully, “I won’t ask you to try to winnow.”

Frowning slightly, she said, “I don’t know how I did it to begin with.”

“Will it into being,” I stated, matter-of-factly.

She stared at me as though I was crazy.

I shrugged, smirking teasingly, “Try thinking of me – how good-looking I am. How talented-“

“How arrogant,” she retorted.

I nearly laughed, “That too.” I finally released her hand and crossed my arms over my chest, waiting for her to try.

She hesitated for a moment, her eyes roaming over my body again, and then looked away as she quipped, “Put a shirt on while you’re at it.”

I smiled slowly, wickedly, “Does it make you uncomfortable?”

Looking back at me she scowled a little, “I’m surprised there aren’t more mirrors in this house, since you seem to love looking at yourself so much.”

To our side I heard Azriel suddenly start coughing, and glancing over I saw Cassian turn away, his face lit with laughter and a hand over his mouth.

Glancing back at Feyre, I was dangerously close to laughing as well, but held it to just a smile, “There’s the Feyre I adore.”

Her scowl grew but she finally closed her eyes and tried to reach for her power, to summon the darkness within.

I felt her struggling, grasping at shadows that slipped through her fingers while her emotions were still roiling inside of her. I let her try and get a grip on anything inside of herself for several minutes, but when her frustration and despair at ever controlling her gift began to override her attempts, I finally stepped in.

“There are different kinds of darkness,” I told her quietly. “There is the darkness that frightens, the darkness that soothes, the darkness that is restful.”

I wanted to touch her again, I wanted to brush my fingers over her cheeks, along those full lips that parted as she listened to me, tempting me. 

I continued quietly, “There is the darkness of lovers, and the darkness of assassins. It becomes what the bearer wishes it to be, needs it to be. It is not wholly bad or good.”

She listened and tried to follow the thread of what I had said to find that darkness inside of herself, to summon it up, to call it to obey – but nothing came.

I summoned my own darkness then, swirling it around us and thickening it until it was actually dark and enveloping. I thought it might be possible that my darkness could call to hers, bring it to the forefront so that she might recognize it and call it forth by name now.

“Open your eyes,” I told her quietly. 

When she did, I could see her eyes widen as she looked around in the empty, inky darkness – to me she was the only light in it, her soul radiant and shining. I reached out then, and breathed light into the darkness, little flickers of starlight dancing in place – memories, both good and bad, faded and new. The soft light danced over her skin and hair – she was my sun, and these were her stars amongst my darkest night. I heard her breath catch, and watched as she lifted a hand, wiggling her fingers around a star, and watched it dance and twirl over her finger tips. Between one heartbeat and the next I heard her breathe in deep, breathe in my darkness, like she had not taken a breath in months, and there was not a trace of fear in her – no, she was at peace.

This moment… this moment was pure bliss and I never wanted it to end.

It had to though – all things must come to an end, even the night must bow before the dawn of the sun; so to, must this.

I took a breath, and drew the darkness back inside of myself, watching it swirl and then vanish, leaving us standing face to face, nearly touching and staring at each other. Her eyes… red rimmed with the tears she had shed, did not look so desolate however, they glowed with peace and hope, and it eased the pain in my own heart.

I smiled at her, “We can work on it later. For now,” I sniffed and teased her, “go take a bath.” 

She scowled and gave me a vulgar gesture, and I laughed as she stalked off to where Cassian and Azriel were standing – no longer sparring. Even when she asked Cassian for a ride home, I was still stupidly grinning at the moment we had shared, so bitter sweet and beautiful.

I watched Cassian leap into the air with her, and catch the current, riding down towards the city before I walked over to Azriel. I stopped at the bench to pick up my shirt and shrug it on, glancing up to see that hazel eyes were dark and studying me minutely; I arched a brow at him.

He let out a breath, “I knew there was something between the two of you - I knew Mor was in on it early on, and Amren figured it out at that first dinner. It took Cassian a bit longer to figure it out, he can be a little thick sometimes. However, I hadn’t realized how…” He trailed off, eying my closer if that was at all possible.

I rolled my shoulders, settling my shirt and began to button it in place, refusing to meet his gaze for several minutes. He waited until I did however, his eyes demanding answers I was unwilling to give. 

“Feyre and I shared darkness in a place that haunts us still – there is a connection between us because of that. Yes, I feel fondly for her, and maybe something might come from that – someday. But not now, not any time soon; she is still mourning, the loss of her mortal life, Tamlin…” I shrugged, and I could tell my truthful, yet absolute lie was not convincing him.

He answered with a snort, “Rhys, you are normally an exceptional liar – but you are utter bollocks when it comes to her, your eyes are what give you away. You look at her like she’s the only light in your…” He trailed off again, and his eyes went wide as he took a step towards me in shock. “Rhys…”

It clicked in for him, like suddenly the pieces fell into place. I looked at him hard, gritting my teeth a little – _great._ If Mor found out that Azriel had figured it out, god - the crow she would make me eat… I could handle that though, but if Feyre found out…

“Do not say what you are thinking, do not breathe a word of it. Please Az, for me, keep this one a secret.”

He stared at me still, “She doesn’t-“

“No.” Was all I said, and suddenly felt like I was having déjà vu.

Azriel let out a low breath and shook his head, “As you wish, it’s a terrible decision, but you’re allowed to make those.”

He gave me a wry grin and I shook my head, “Thanks Az. Are you heading out?”

“Yes,” he said, the grin wiped from his face, turning all business, “I’ll be back in a few hours, in case you need me.”

I nodded and clasped hands with him, “Thank you, again.”

He nodded and pulled back, spreading his wings and launching into the sky. I watched him until he turned into a mere spec of black, then sighed softly and reached up, running my hands through my hair.

“So, Az and Cassian know.”

For one, irrational second, I froze in pure panic – the voice was female, oh gods… but no, it wasn’t Feyre, and she had left with Cassian. When my heart stopped pounding hard enough that I felt near to passing out and I could think clearly, I realized it was Mor.

_Fuck._

I turned slowly, dropping my hand from my face and stared at her. Her eyes were dark with humor and annoyance, and her face was split with a shit eating grin.

“Let me guess, Amren figured it out that first night,” She continued, and I said nothing in response. Folding her arms across her stomach, she snorted delicately, “Seems I remember telling you this would happen.” 

Taking a very long, very slow breath, holding it in place, and then blowing it out just as slowly, I finally said, “You would think along with the gift of Truth you would have the gift of self-preservation.”

She let out a chiming laugh, “Don’t go threatening me cousin, just because I get to tell you ‘told you so’.” 

I shook my head and walked towards her, “Do you have some other reason to be here other than annoying me?”

She continued to grin, “Honestly, this was reason enough – but I came to see how Azriel’s scouting went.”

I stopped in front of her and frowned, reaching up to run my hand through my hair again, “Not well. What do you know about the construction of the Queen’s palace?”

She shook her head a little, “Not much, I wasn’t involved with it at all – I knew there were fae helping them with it, but that’s all.”

I sighed a little, “Well it appears to be very securely warded. He couldn’t get in at all, and he is going to have to try another method.”

She crossed her arms, brows furrowed, “We could try and find the fae that helped… but it wouldn’t be quiet.”

“Exactly, and right now it seems like Hybern doesn’t know what we’re up to. We stay the course and try to get the Book through honesty – if the Queens ever deign to respond. Has there been any word from Summer?”

A shake of her head and I let out a sigh – it had only been a few days, but the impatience of forced idleness was beginning to eat at me. “Well, we focus on Feyre then – as long as nothing pressing comes up, we'll help her train, and I want to spend some time educating her about Prythian – Tamlin kept her too much in the dark, and a lack of understanding can kill just as easily as a sword.” 

She smiled, “Makes sense to me – maybe I can sneak her out for a meal, just the two of us. Now that she is fairly positive, I won’t gobble her up.”

I laughed, spreading my wings, stretching them slowly, “Oh I don’t think she’s anywhere foolish enough to believe that cousin – none of us are.”

She gave me a vulgar gesture and I winked at her, before crouching and launching into the sky, making my way home for my own bath.

\- - - ~*~ - - -

After a bath, and another change of clothes, I met Feyre in the dining room for lunch – and once again she was piling her plate full of the good food and devouring it with an impressive appetite. It was good to see, and even better to know that she was keeping the food down each night; her body was already beginning to look better, filling out and hiding the once prominent bones.

After a drink of water from my glass, I leaned back, “I want to spend a little time each afternoon working on your powers – it’s just as important as what Cassian is teaching you.”

She glanced up at me, taking a bite of cheese and tomato, chewing and then nodded, “Alright. Are we starting this today?”

Leaning forward I took bite, chewed, swallowed and nodded, “You were right, we don’t have time to work with you slowly, we don’t know when Hybern will strike. We also don’t have anything else to do, except for wait right now. I have meetings and other appointments I have to attend, but we can work your sessions in around those easily enough.”

She kept quiet, chewing as she considered what I said, then asked, “You told me that Mor practically runs Velaris and Hewn City for you, and Cassian manages your army, Azriel retrieves information and Amren handles your research and dirty work…” She trailed off and I arched a brow at her as her face took on almost an embarrassed look.

“What is it that… you do?” The last two words coming out in a sudden rush – as though saying them quicker would reduce the blow of them.

I grinned widely, tilting my head back a little as I laughed – I knew what she meant, but watching her look so uncomfortable asking the question simply cracked me up.

Reaching up, I wiped my eyes that had gone liquid with tears due to my laughter, “Oh-“ I sighed and shook my head, “I am _extremely_ grateful that you waited to ask me this question until we were alone.”

She scowled at me, shoving her food around on her plate with short, aggravated movements.

Smiling still, I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the table, “You know that being High Lord isn’t just a title that is passed on from father to son, it’s also an inheritance of power.”

Letting out a breath, she lifted her head to look at me and nodded.

I shrugged, “That power is tied to the land we rule – and I can feel it, the land, the people on it, all the time.” Her eyes widened slightly, and I continued, “It is not pin point accurate, I can’t tell where a single death happens for instance, but if there was a sudden massive attack anywhere on my land – I would feel it.”

I leaned back in my chair, frowning a little, “As well, the Night Court lands are… sealed.” Her brows tightened and it was easy to see the ripple of panic in her eyes. I shook my head at her, “Not from the inside out, Feyre. You are free to leave anytime you want, to anywhere you want to go – you know that.”

I waited a moment, letting her exhale her panic before I went on. “My forefathers decided to protect our lands and people – hated by nearly every other court – by sealing our borders and keeping people out. People do come in of course, to trade and even visit family, but there are spells to… adjust their memories – to ensure our secrets remain that way. I keep those shields and spells active at all times, it’s a constant drain on my power and on a portion of my mind. That, however, is just my power – while Mor is adept at maintaining my cities, she manages the broader aspects and oversees my staff, while I handle the finer points when a final judgement is necessary. I also help Cassian with the army regularly – the Illyrians are stubborn bastards, and while he is formidable, sometimes the command has to come from me, or it won’t be obeyed. I also help Azriel with spying on occasion – his shadows and my darkness work similar in some regards.” I arched a brow at her, and grinned a little, “I also now help a stubborn fae woman learn how to use her powers, and that by far is the more enjoyable task of my day.”

Her face, which had gone blank as I explained a portion of my daily work load, returned to a scowl at my final comment and I let out a warm chuckle.

Leaning over I picked up the pitcher of water, refilled my glass, then set the pitcher aside. Moving my plate aside, I sat my glass on the table between both of us and gestured, “Try playing with the water.” 

Glancing between me and the glass of water, she pushed her plate out of the way and took a breath, leaning forward to rest her hands on the table and stare at the water.

Other than the surface of the water settling after having been moved, nothing happened.

Her brows furrowed so tightly they almost touched, and I felt her scrambling around inside of her head, trying to find somewhere that the water inside of her lived – and coming up short. The look of frustration and defeat started edging into her eyes, and I wasn’t about to let that happen again.

Standing up, I walked around the table, her gaze lifting to watch me as I came to stand behind her chair. Leaning forward, I placed my hand lightly over the top of hers, and moved my lips close to her ear.

“Your powers seem to be tied up with your emotions right now – with fire being the easiest to access – but that won’t always work for you, and it isn’t sustainable.” The scent of her, pine and snow, tickled my nose as I felt goosebumps rise on her skin. “The power isn’t in your head – power isn’t something you think you have, it is something that you are Feyre – you were reborn with this power, it courses in your veins, pounds in your bones, dances over your skin…” I felt her shiver beneath me, felt her breathing hitch, “Don’t think about the power, become it – don’t tell it to do something, do it.” I brushed my lips lightly over the curve of her ear and said quietly, “Make the water move.”

She went completely still beneath me, seeming to no longer even breathe, and I could feel it in her – the power, _her_ power, rising up inside of her. I remained still, lest I distract her, and felt my heart racing as I watched the glass of water, waiting, waiting…

There.

The water rippled, as though something had dripped into it.

Again.

The ripples grew, spreading out from the center and splashing against the sides of the glass.

Again.

And then the ripples turned back in on themselves, and for one infinite moment, the water splashed up and formed into a small, acorn sized orb of water and just… floated. Above the glass, the outer rim of the water shimmering and rippling. Then she gasped and lost her control and the ball of water fell back into the glass, causing it to splash over the edges and onto the top of the table.

Her breathing came fast and ragged, and I grinned, nearly light headed with pride and excitement. Squeezing her hand gently, I stood up, and turned, picking up a candle off the of the buffet table against the wall, and sat it down in front of her.

“Try and light it, Feyre.”

I stepped to her side just enough that I could watch her, her chest still rising and falling rapidly with her quick breathing, but her eyes were focused and determined. She stared at the candle, and after several quick breaths, she went still again – and the wick began to smoke.

Another heartbeat, and flame came alive at the tip of it, flickering gold and red. A slow tremble went through her body – but it did not seem like it came from fear but rather relief.

“Good,” I purred to her. “Do you feel it now, Feyre? It isn’t a beast at your command, it is you.”

She swallowed and lifted her darkened gaze, meeting mine – and such depth of emotion rippled there that I felt my heart throb in response. I gestured again, unwilling to let this momentum go, “See if you can put the flame out with the water, push yourself Feyre.”

She stared at me a little longer, then looked back at the water and the fire. After a minute the water began to ripple again, and another minute the orb of water appeared, hovering there, swirling gently… but did not move. Her brows furrowed and I felt her pushing on it, shoving against the orb of liquid, even fancied that I could see the surface dimple where she pushed – but it refused to move.

I crossed my arms over my chest, considering – water was not my element, I did not understand its nature the way I did darkness. However, there were some very fundamental rules to how things moved, and I decided to see if they applied with power as well.

“Don’t… push Feyre. No amount of pushing on the ocean will cause it to change directions – you don’t move the bed of a river by pushing it, you lead it down the path of least resistance.” I could tell by the tilt of her head that she didn’t understand. “You are not your body, you are your soul, your spirit – your power - and you are infinite and exist everywhere at once. Call the water to you – not your body in that chair, but to you, the _flame_.”

She hesitated, but then her eyes narrowed, and she leaned forward. Somehow minutes felt like hours and sweat broke out across her brow as I felt the power inside of her, twisting and roiling and it reminded me how the wind felt on a stormy day as my wings beat and stretched to master it.

_You can do this…_ I thought to myself, ever hopeful.

With a sudden, quick gasp from her, the orb of water suddenly exploded across the top of the candle – as though it had been hurled at it – quenching the fire and splattering the table and both of us with droplets of water and wax.

I blinked once and then laughed, delighted.

Feyre sagged back into her chair, trembling again and staring wide eyed at the mess. Grinning fit to bursting, I slid my hands into my pockets and stepped around the table to look at her, “Not bad Feyre, not bad at all. A little messy, but worth it.”

She just shook her head and sat up slowly, reaching up to rub her temple lightly. “If it’s not in my head, then why does it hurt there?”

I shrugged, “Your mind is where you think you exist – and it hurts for the same reason your muscles hurt after practicing with Cassian – you’re using them in new ways. The pain will ease the more you use them, which means a lot of practice for you. Try using your power in little ways throughout the day – to get a better feel of it and exercise your muscles.”

She let out a long, low sigh, and reached for her napkin, beginning to mop up the mess. The front door opened at that moment and we both turned our heads to spot Mor walking in.

“Hello! Feyre, are you…” she trailed off, eying the mess on the table, and the subsequent splatters on both of us, “Are you two fighting again?” 

I smirked a little, “Hardly, Feyre was just playing with her power.”

Feyre’s lips quirked slightly as though holding back a smile.

“Oh! Well, I got your note Feyre – but if this is a bad time,” Mor said as she looked between the two of us.

I arched a brow – shocked to see how quickly Feyre had used the information I gave her just this morning.

Feyre glanced at me once, then shook her head, “No, I think we are done. If you have time now…”

I stared at them both, curiosity eating at me hard, but I gritted my teeth slightly and did _not_ ask. Feyre had a right to a private life, and if she wanted to spend time alone with Mor – that was her choice.

I really wanted to ask though.

Feyre glanced down at herself and said, “Let me go change really quick, then we can go.”

Mor smiled brilliantly, “Great!” And we both watched as she headed upstairs. Once she was gone, Mor turned her attention to me and smirked, “Go ahead, ask.”

I let out a heavy sigh, “Where are you going?”

Mor’s mischievous smirk turned positively ruthless, “Out.”

I glared at her and she let out a laugh – and I knew she was not going to tell me, High Lord or no. Sighing, I shook my head, “Fine, keep your secrets.”

I walked past my cousin, glancing up the stairs for a moment to see if I could spot Feyre but she had not come back yet, and took myself on to my study. A little while later I heard them both leave, and they did not come back for hours. I spent the afternoon working and did manage to finally catch up on some work, though I kept an ear cocked towards the front door the entire time.

When they did finally return, Feyre looked… lighter, her eyes less shadowed. Mor stayed with us and had dinner, and we spent the evening talking and sharing stories. Feyre even opened up enough to share a couple of stories about her past, while not always happy, still showed me facets of her soul I had not yet discovered and was still just as enthralled with.

I went to bed that night feeling… happy. Even satisfied to a degree. I still longed for Feyre, ached for her in every inch of my body and soul, but if this was all I would ever have with her, these days and nights of friendship and teasing – it would be enough.

I hoped for more though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This endeavor is my first ever fanfiction attempt, and it has been a blast to play with so far.
> 
> I would love to see your comments about what I'm writing!
> 
> So please hit me up with what you think! - Otter


	7. Who Needs Enemies - I Have Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: If you have not read A Court of Mist and Fury by Sarah J. Maas I strongly suggest you go read it first - it's undoubtedly better written and what I have written will spoil the book for you.
> 
> I am re-writing all of ACOMAF from Rhysand's perspective, using all of the original characters/scenes/dialogue, and adding in new bits and bobs to flesh his story out more.
> 
> This Section:  
> Ch. 1 - Rhysand buys jewelry for Feyre and makes plans (New scene)  
> Ch. 2 - Rhysand meets the Archeron sisters for the first time  
> Ch. 3 - Feyre tries to train but is attacked by the Attor (Partial new scene)  
> Ch. 4 - Escorting the sisters to mail the letter, and questioning the Attor (Partial new scene)  
> Ch. 5 - A night out on the town - dinner in Velaris  
> Ch. 6 - Feyre trains with Cassian, then trains her magic with Rhysand (Partial new scene)  
> Ch. 7 - A night at the club, a plan to visit the Summer Court, lunch with Feyre and a night playing cards at the bar (Several new scenes)
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> *Disclaimer - I do not take credit for the any of the characters or the world created by Sarah J. Maas.

Three days later, Mor ambushed us and dragged both Feyre and myself to Rita’s for drinks and dancing. Feyre looked nervous and uncomfortable when we first arrived, the music and press of fae more than a little overwhelming, but she did not flee. Mor had dragged her around, introducing her to what had seemed to be an endless sea of friends. I was prepared to go and rescue her if she even hinted at wanting out, but she remained steadfastly next to Mor. Her body remained tense though, her face a little pinched, and when Mor finally seemed to notice she led her over to the booth where Az and I were sitting. 

Az was not in a great mood – he was not having any luck with the mortal court and it was weighing on him. Despite my many assurances that I was not displeased with his efforts, he still continued to brood – and it was only Mor’s coaxing request that convinced him to come out tonight.

Feyre slid into the booth beside Az, something that bothered me a little, but at least this way I could see her face clearly. Leaning forward I slid a glass of wine across the table to her, and she nodded her thanks as she picked it up, taking a sip.

Smiling brightly, Mor picked up her own drink and tossed it back, then glanced around, “Where is Cassian?” 

I jerked my chin towards where he was standing, three young fae women around him, laughing and obviously flirting. Mor snorted and shook her head, “Watch, in a minute, he is going to flex his arm.” 

We all watched him, and sure enough he did and Mor started cackling, and I cracked a grin at the sight – even Feyre’s eyes twinkled with wry amusement. Az didn’t smile, but he did watch, and there was a touch of amusement hidden beneath the shadows that danced around him.

“Come dance with me!” Mor said, as she turned to look at us, and Az shook his head once.

Feyre, looking a little panicked, shook her head, “I’m still too sore from practice today Mor.”

She looked over at me imploringly, and I glanced at Feyre and Az then shrugged – lead by example?

“Alright, one dance and that’s your lot, cousin.”

Mor bounced with excitement and I slid out of the booth to join her. I could feel Feyre’s eyes on me the entire time we danced, and my heart raced at the feel of them gliding over me. I wondered what she would do if I asked her directly, if she would dance with me… but a flash of memory - the dark hall Under the Mountain, the taste of wine and the image of her dancing in front of me – and I felt sick at heart. I had done that to her – night after night, and while she did not remember much of those evenings, she remembered enough.

I needed a drink.

Abandoning Mor to the dancing, I made my way to the bar and ordered a stiff drink, pointedly refusing to look back at Feyre. Cassian joined me minutes later, and by the look on his face I knew he could tell something was up.

“You ok, Rhys?” He asked quietly.

I was handed my drink, and tossed it back quickly, the liquid burning down my throat, nearly making me cough.

“Yes,” I finally rasped, and signaled for another, and gestured for one for Cassian as well.

He eyed me, curious and concerned, but when the drinks came, he knocked it back with me. The warmth of the alcohol burned inside me and eased the blunt edges of the memory – it was still churning there, but the darkness of it wasn’t threatening to swallow me whole anymore. 

I could still feel her eyes on me.

Cassian stayed with me until Mor managed to drag him away to dance and I found myself alone, a third drink in my hand – but I didn’t toss this one back, not yet. A moment later I felt someone beside me, standing close, and looked over to see a young, lovely fae woman.

“Good evening, High Lord,” she smiled at me warmly and bowed her head, “Are you enjoying yourself?”

Ever the diplomat, I turned and smiled at her kindly, “Good evening – and yes, it’s nice to have a night out on occasion.”

Her eyes twinkled and she picked up her drink from the bar, a glass of wine, and sipped, “Oh yes – your friends come here often, I’m glad they convinced you to join them.”

I arched a brow with a touch of amusement, “I’m guessing you’re a frequent patron here as well… what was your name?”

She laughed and held out a delicate hand, “My apologies High Lord, I’m Syra - and yes, I spend most evenings here. Mor is a good friend.”

I took her hand and shook it gently, feeling Feyre’s gaze watching every move I made, “Nothing to apologize for - It’s nice to meet a friend of Mor’s, and you can call me Rhys.”

She smiled broadly, “Do you enjoy dancing?” Then gestured towards the floor, as if in invitation.

The memory twisted inside of me again, and I took a bracing drink before answering, “Sometimes – not as much anymore.”

Her jade green eyes darkened, and her face took on a sympathetic look – but something about it twisted my stomach. It wasn’t sympathy like Feyre’s – a sympathy born from equal suffering and darkness - but rather it was rooted in… indifference. That was not to say she did not feel badly for what happened to me, to us, Under the Mountain, but having been fortunate enough to not experience the horrors we had; her sympathy was only surface deep.

“Of course, I’m sorry Hi – Rhys.” She hesitated, but then smiled, “If you change your mind, I would be honored to dance with you.”

I gave her a smile, “You will be the first to know.”

She grinned and wandered off, and I let out a low sigh, finishing my drink and signaling for another. Perhaps it was the look on my face, or the fact I was alone, or just the Cauldron being a pain in the ass – but tonight there seemed to be a line of fae coming up to me. Most were just kind, well wishes and even a few old acquaintances, but several attempted to entice me to dance or hinted at leaving the bar for other… activities.

One attractive fae, with long black hair and eyes as blue as the ocean did more than hint. Resting a hand on my arm, she leaned forward, and spoke with a simmering, sultry voice, “It would be my honor to spend the evening with you High Lord – come back to my place tonight – I promise you won’t regret it.”

I felt my body tighten – not with desire or even disgust but… it felt wrong; she was wrong. I looked at her, beautiful and willing, and fifty years ago I likely wouldn’t have even hesitated – and even if Feyre hadn’t been here tonight, hadn’t spent the evening watching me – I still would not have been interested. I couldn’t see this fae in front of me – because all I could see, every minute of every day, was Feyre. There was no one and nothing that came before her, and I wanted no one else but her.

I smiled at the woman, covering her hand with mine and gently slid it off my arm as I said politely, “Thank you for your generous offer, but I’m afraid I have to refuse.”

She didn’t pout, but I could feel her disappointment as she bowed her head and took her leave of me. Exhaling again, I quickly escaped to the booth I had been exiled from most of the night, and found Az’s spirits lightened with a faint grin touching his lips, and Feyre… her demeanor towards me as I slid into the booth again appeared amused, but beneath it I felt a wave of dismay that confused me. She didn’t explain however, even when I held her gaze – the question obvious in my eyes.

Instead of answering, she finished the wine in her glass, glanced towards Mor and Cassian dancing, then slid out of the booth.

“I’m going to head home, it’s late and I’m tired. Will you tell Mor thank you for the evening out?” She glanced at both of us, but it was Az who nodded his agreement.

I started to slide out of the booth to join her and she shook her head at me, frowning slightly, “I’m fine walking home alone.”

Undeterred, I stood up and smirked at her, “I know you are – I’m leaving with you so that I’m protected. Between your powers and your scowls, I might get out of here in one piece.”

She scowled at me then and I laughed then nodded at Az, “See you later.”

I began to stroll for the door and a second later I felt Feyre following behind me, and within minutes we were outside in the fresh, cold air and walking home.

Neither of us spoke during our trek home, she kept her hands in her coat pockets and her eyes forward – but I could feel the tension between us. It sometimes felt as though she couldn’t keep her eyes off me, and she was quick to tease and banter with me, but she still kept me at a distance – physically and emotionally. Yet tonight… there had almost been a territorial feel to her gaze, as if she longed to stake her claim. It made a shiver run down my spine and spun dark, sensual thoughts in my mind.

At the house, I watched her climb the stairs and head to her room without once looking at me. I stood there at the base of the stairs, considering, then turned and walked into my office, sitting at the desk and pulling out a sheet of paper.

 _If I had asked,_ I wrote quickly, _would you have danced with me?_

Winding my darkness into the page, I then winnowed it into her room, setting it on her bedside table and waited.

And waited.

It was likely only minutes, but it felt like hours before I finally felt the pen scratch across the page, then stop.

I winnowed it back to me, and taking a breath, leaned forward to read what she wrote.

_Yes._

My body trembled at the response – I would have to insist on more trips to Rita’s in the next few days.

\- - - ~*~ - - - 

I had gone to bed absolutely positive I would not be able to fall asleep – it seemed my body had other ideas however and was soon unconscious. I did not dream peacefully this night – my nightmares came to haunt me.

_I was in the throne room Under the Mountain, pinned to the ground before the throne where Amarantha sat, laughing._

_In front of me was Feyre, dressed in the scant silks I had made her wear – but it was not paint that covered her skin this time, no, that was blood that coated her hands and arms, smeared over her chest and silks._

_Tears ran down her face as she screamed and thrashed in front of me as Amarantha tortured her – like a demented dance of pain and suffering._

_I struggled against the bonds that held me, thrashed and roared and Amarantha only laughed._

_Feyre!_

_I screamed for her and begged and clawed at the bonds that held me._

_“Human trash,” Amarantha purred, “so easy to break.”_

_And I heard it, echoing through my mind, my body, my very soul._

_CRACK_

_And Feyre’s eyes widened in shock, and then she collapsed to the floor in front of me, a broken, bloody shell of her former self._

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

I sat up with a gasp, breathing hard and looked around my room finding it pitch black.

“Rhys? Are you awake?”

My heart pounding, I forced myself to breathe slowly –

_Feyre._

I realized the blackness of my room was not true night, but my gift leaking out of me. Gritting my teeth, I twisted a strand of the darkness into a tendril and reached out to find Feyre. Outside my door the tendril brushed across Mor, but I did not stop for her. I slid that tendril farther, down the hall and to Feyre’s door, slipping inside.

She was there, she was sleeping – it was still very early. Swallowing hard, I pulled the tendril and the darkness swirling around my room back inside of myself and reached up, rubbing my face as I tried to calm my racing heart. 

“Rhys?”

Sliding out of bed, dressed only in my sleep pants, I made my way to the door and opened it, looking out at Mor who was sleepy eyed but dressed for the day.

“Mor? What is going on?”

She looked me up and down, frowning a little bit at what she saw, but said, “Azriel sent word – he will be back shortly, and he needs to see you immediately. He couldn’t get through to you, so he woke me. Do you want him to come here?”

I took a breath and shook my head, “No, tell him to meet me at the House, I’ll be there in a minute. If this meeting takes a while can you find Cassian and have him take Feyre up for training today? I’ll join them later if I can.”

“Yea, he’ll grumble but he likes eating breakfast here so that will be all the tempting he needs.” She grinned at me, but her eyes were still concerned.

“Thank you Mor, let me get dressed so I can meet Az.” She nodded and headed down the hall while I shut my door and turned to get dressed for the day.

I considered just wearing my leathers, but decided on my town clothes instead, dressing in black pants and tunic, combing my hair and washing my face. Once presentable I winnowed above the House of Wind and released my wings, spreading them wide and gliding down to the House, landing lightly on a balcony. Tucking my wings back in, and wrapping them in darkness again, I made my way through the House and to my office.

Once inside I walked to the small windows set in one wall, I stared out at the sky, watching the colors begin to lighten and the stars fade. The image of the dream haunted me, and the sound of her neck snapping still reverberated through my body.

“Rhys?” 

I jumped slightly – I must have been lost deep in my thoughts to not hear Azriel approach, even as silent as he was. Turning I saw him standing just inside my office, his face dark and a little haggard.

I walked towards him a few steps, frowning, “Azriel, what happened? Mor said you needed to see me immediately.”

The shadows thickened around him and pulsed, almost as if in anger, and he said darkly, “I lost a spy last night. He had been trying to infiltrate the mortal court.”

I froze, staring at him with shock, and then the rage swirled up inside of me, the darkness twisting along with it. 

“Who? How?”

Azriel let out a breath, “Hyell, he was new but exceptional – and I don’t know how. He was… is Tartera, you know they can move through solid rock so we had a thought he might be able to pass through…” He gritted his teeth, hands clenching in fists and for a brief moment his entire body was sealed in shadows… then they eased, and his face was visible again. “He was there, then he wasn’t, and I don’t know what happened. As soon as I realized he hadn’t checked in I flew there. I’ve spent the entire night scanning for him.”

“Az-” I began, and he cut me off sharply.

“I think that palace might be a death trap for fae – designed to kill or capture.” He shook his head, the anger and frustration pouring off of him in waves, mirrored by the shadows that twisted and cascaded over his body. 

I walked over to him and reached up, resting a hand on his shoulder lightly, “It’s not your fault Az, you know… you know casualties happen.” Yes, they happened – we were at war now, but it did not make the loss any easier to bear.

“We don’t need to try and infiltrate the palace yet, hold off on trying to do that anymore. We will keep reaching out to the Queens through diplomatic means.” I lowered my hand from his shoulder and slid my hands into my pockets, “We need to check in with Feyre’s sisters to see if there has been a response, and if there is none then I am going to give them another letter to send. If it comes down to us needing to try and break in, then I will go.”

Azriel dark eyes bore into me, and on the edges, I could see a hint of the insanity there – the boy trapped in darkness that swallowed him whole. After a moment his gaze cleared, and he nodded once, stiffly. “I can go check with Feyre’s sisters. Do you have the letter ready?”

I studied him, trying to decide if he was up to dealing with the sisters, with Nesta… but finally I shook my head and answered, “No, I’ll write it now, go get something to eat and come back in thirty minutes.”

Another stiff nod, then he turned and walked out of my office. Letting out a long breath, I moved around to the back of my desk and sat down, pulling out a sheet of paper and a pen. Leaning forward, I began to write out a new message, trying again to reach out to these mortal queens and convince them of how serious both of our predicament was.

Azriel returned in fifteen minutes, it was obvious his impatience was a direct result of his anger and frustration, and guilt. I had finished the letter only minutes before, and I folded it up, standing to walk over and meet him near the door.

“Azriel, you don’t need to be the one to do this – Cassian or I can go.” I hesitated for a moment and said, “We don’t want to… frighten Feyre’s sisters.”

He stared at me for a moment, then exhaled slowly and some of the shadows around him flittered off, “I will not frighten them, and I’m the best choice to go because I can avoid any human detection with greater ease.”

I studied his face again, then nodded and handed him the letter – the truth was, I would rather he take care of this and have something to focus on, instead of being stuck around here raging and blaming himself. He took the letter and a moment later it disappeared into his pocket realm.

“Be safe and be careful,” I said quietly.

Bowing his head to me he said in turn, “I’ll be back in a few hours.”

I watched him head out and let out a sigh, glancing out of the windows to gauge what time it was. I wondered if Feyre was up and having breakfast with Cassian and Mor, or if they were already training – perhaps I could join them for breakfast still…

My thoughts were interrupted with a knock on my door, and I turned to call out quietly, “Enter.”

The door pushed open and a fae entered, dusky skinned with pale, luminescent white hair and gray eyes – Estel. Technically one of Azriel’s spies, but she tended to do less spying per say and more messenger work, usually between courts.

I smiled, “Hello Estel. Do you have something for me?”

She flashed me a quick smile and a nod, walking the few steps from the door to hand me a folded and sealed note – the seal on it bearing the arms of Summer Court. My heart skipped a beat, then sped – _please, Mother above, let this be an acceptance to my request._

“Thank you Estel, were there any additional messages beyond this?” I flipped the note over in my hand, inspecting the outside of the paper, before glancing up at her.

A shake of her head, “No, High Lord.”

A nod, “Thank you Estel.”

She bowed to me, then turned and left, shutting the door behind her. Extending a tendril of my darkness, I brushed it over the seal on the letter and felt the cool ripple of water brushing against me in turn – it was official. Drawing my darkness back I reached up and broke the seal, opening the letter and scanning the message.

Pure relief flooded through me – my request had been approved, and I was permitted two attendees, which was standard protocol and more than enough to suit my needs. Well then, it seemed we would be visiting the Summer Court, and we would see what new things Feyre Cursebreaker could accomplish.

\- - - ~*~ - - - 

It turned out that Mor had not stayed for breakfast with Cassian and Feyre, and the two of them were done with breakfast and here at the House already practicing. I had sent a message to Nuala who informed me of the departures, so I sent her and Cerridwen to find both Mor and Amren and instruct them to join Cassian and Feyre at the House. I would seek them out shortly and took the next hour while I waited for them to arrive to draw up some documents in regard to our upcoming trip.

Once that was completed, and I felt enough time had passed, I left my office and made my way towards the roof where the sparing ring was. Before I was even to the top of the stairs I could hear Amren and Cassian bickering at each other, and grinned slightly, shaking my head.

Sliding my hands in my pockets, I stepped out through the doorway just as Amren snarled viciously at Cassian. Arching a brow I strolled towards them, examining everyone and noting the daggers on the ground beside Feyre who looked extremely uncomfortable.

“Sorry to interrupt while things were getting interesting.” 

Amren leaned back in her seat, smirking and said, “Fortunately for Cassian’s balls, you arrived at the right time.”

Cassian snarled at her, only half-heartedly, however.

I laughed and shook my head again, then announced, “Ready to go on a summer holiday?”

They all looked at me with shock, then Mor piped up first, “The Summer Court invited you?”

I shrugged nonchalantly, “Of course they did. Feyre, Amren and I are going tomorrow.”

Cassian frowned at that, his wings rustling in agitation as he crossed his arms. “The Summer Court is full of hotheaded fools and arrogant pricks,” he tried warning me. “I should join you.”

Amren crooned tauntingly, “You’d fit right in. Too bad you still aren’t going.” 

Cassian glared at her and pointed a finger in warning, “Watch it, Amren.”

A wicked smile spread over Amren’s lips, that was almost a snarl, and replied, “Believe me, I’d prefer not to go, either.”

I reached up, rubbing my temples and sighing at the two of them – it’s a wonder we ever accomplished anything. Who needs enemies when you have family?

“Cassian,” I said with annoyance, “considering the fact that the last time you visited, it didn’t end well-“

He interrupted me, trying to defend himself, “I wreck _one_ building-“

Raising my voice just slightly, “ _And,”_ I cut him off. “Considering the fact that they are utterly terrified of sweet Amren, _she_ is the wiser choice.”

Cassian frowned even more and pushed, “It could easily be a trap.” He glanced at Feyre so quickly she didn’t notice it – but I did, as did Mor, who appeared to agree with him. “Who’s to say the delay in replying wasn’t because they’re contacting our enemies to ambush you.”

I had considered that – I considered most everything about Feyre and what might be a danger to her. It would be her choice though, if she wanted to go – I would pose it to her later, in private.

Instead I answered simply, “That is _also_ why Amren is coming.”

Amren did not look pleased, in fact she looked bored and annoyed – and I was not really interested in an argument with her.

Time to pull out the lure. 

I nearly smiled as I said casually, “There is also a great deal of treasure to be found in the Summer Court. If the Book is hidden, Amren, you might find out objects to your liking.”

Amren’s eyes fairly _glowed_ at the prospect of adding to her hoard. I wanted to laugh – but Cassian angry retort ensured that did not happen.

“Shit,” Cassian growled, throwing his hands up in frustration. “Really, Rhys? It’s bad enough we’re stealing from them, but robbing them blind-“

Amren cut in smoothly, her eyes glinting with greed, “Rhysand _does_ have a point. Their High Lord is young and untested. I doubt he’s had much time to catalog his inherited hoard since he was appointed Under the Mountain. I doubt he’ll know anything is missing. Very well, Rhysand – I’m in.”

I was surprised she didn’t actually rub her hands together in glee.

Cassian opened his mouth to continue arguing, but I quickly came up for another reason to ensure he would not go, and a plan for how to handle Feyre’s sisters – I would rotate sending Cassian and Azriel to check for responses and patrol their property to ensure they were safe.

“I will need you – not Amren – in the human realm.” Feyre’s gaze sharpened on me, and I would explain my intentions for them to patrol to her later as well. “The Summer Court has banned you for eternity, and though your presence would be a good distraction while Feyre does what she has to, it could lead to more trouble than it’s worth.”

I saw Feyre stiffen slightly at that, and worried that she would choose not to go. If that was the case, I would _definitely_ need Amren with me, between the two of us we might be able to locate the Book – but it would not be quiet. 

“Just cool your heels, Cassian,” Amren cooed at him, her eyes a little glazed with greed. “We’ll be fine without you swaggering and growling at everyone.” She leaned back further and gestured towards me, “Their High Lord owes Rhys a favor for saving his life Under the Mountain – and keeping his secrets.”

I froze at Amren’s words, my face going blank as the memory flashed across my thoughts – a fae cowering on the ground, the scent of piss, his terror of being caught and tortured, and the potential of being forced to reveal their plans of escape and rebellion… his gratitude that I did not betray his secrets, and ultimately, when I killed him quickly – painlessly.

I swallowed hard, fisting my hands in my pockets as I tried to fight back the nausea knotting my stomach. Only Feyre, whose gaze locked on me when Amren mentioned the debt owed, seemed to notice my withdrawal and understood why. Sympathy brimmed in her beautiful eyes, and it soothed me, loosening the muscles in my neck and shoulders, calming my stomach.

I looked up to catch what Mor was saying, “And the High Lord also probably wants to figure out where we stand in regard to any upcoming conflict.”

Cassian, seeming to settle, but was unwilling to give up the fight just yet, and decided to voice his concerns in regard to Feyre. He jerked his chin to her, and said roughly, “Feyre though. It’s one thing to have her here – even when everyone knows it. It’s another to bring her to a different court and introduce her as a member of our own.”

A member of our court – not just a guest, or a visitor, someone passing through. It would announce she was staying – but only a few days earlier she had said Velaris was not her home. It would be making a pronouncement that would send waves through Prythian.

It was sending waves through me.

Would she stay?

I was afraid to find out what her answer would be – and I didn’t want to ask here, in front of everyone. I decided retreat was the better option and inclined my head to Amren before turning and making my way for the doorway again.

I heard someone take a sudden step towards me and then heard Mor’s murmured, “Leave it.”

I let out a sigh, _yes,_ I thought, _leave me be, just this once Cassian._

Making my way down the dark stairs and stepping into the hallway I heard quick footsteps behind me and nearly cursed until… Feyre. I knew it was her without even having to look.

“Any more traps I should know about before we go tomorrow?” She asked me, strolling quickly to catch up to me.

I looked over my shoulder at her and stopped walking, turning half way to take her in. She was dirty and sweaty from practice with Cassian, her face tanned from the sun and her hair twisted by the wind – and she was gorgeous.

“Here I was thinking your notes the other night indicated you’d forgiven me.” I gave her a half grin, amused.

She scowled at me slightly, “One would think a High Lord would have more important things to do than pass notes back and forth at night.”

My grin widened and I took a slow step towards her, closing the distance between us.

“I do have more important things to do,” I purred. “But I find myself unable to resist the temptation.” And unable to resist exposing too much of myself to her. Another thought came to me, of our time at Rita’s last night, and I couldn’t resist teasing her, “The same way you can’t resist watching me whenever we’re out. So territorial.” 

Her eyes widened, and a hint of a blush dusted across her cheeks. Then, almost out of nowhere it seemed, her eyes darkened, and an almost playful smirk touched her lips. The sight of it made my heart stop dead and my knees go nearly weak.

She closed the remaining distance towards me, saying softly, teasingly, “ _You_ haven’t been able to keep away from me since Calanmai, it seems.”

My heart _throbbed_ , and she had no idea how much truth was in that statement. I wondered… if maybe subconsciously she did know the truth, if she knew how vital she was to my, how my entire world revolved around her now.

Forcing myself to remain calm, I reached up quickly, and flicked the tip of her nose as she began to walk past me, smirking a little at her hiss and how she batted my hand away.

“I can’t wait to see what that sharp tongue of yours can do at the Summer Court,” I said with amusement, and couldn’t stop my gaze from brushing over her again, lingering on her face – her lips, Mother above, those lips.

I could feel her annoyance building, and with a wicked grin, I winked at her and winnowed back to my office in the House – glad that while winnowing _out_ of the House was not possible, winnowing within it was doable. It saved me having to climb hundreds of stairs and gave me an easy avenue of escape from Feyre’s scowling temper.

Chuckling softly, I ran my hand through my hair – yes, the Summer Court was going to be interesting.

\- - - ~*~ - - - 

Feyre and I met for lunch at the town house again, a routine I was quickly coming to love. She had washed off the grime from practicing with Cassian and was dressed in a pair of dark blue pants and soft grey sweater, opened wide at the neck to show her neck and collar bones. She had pulled her hair back, twisting it up into a damp, messy bun and her skin was still flushed from the heat of the bath. 

It was hard not to be distracted by how gorgeous she was, but I took a breath and brought up the concerns from earlier in the day. “Feyre, I need to speak with you, about the Summer Court.”

I saw her go still for a moment, then she looked up at me curiously, “What about the Summer Court?”

Leaning forward I rested my elbows on the table and explained, “Cassian mentioned earlier that this could be a trap – and he wasn’t wrong. Summer Court is a seasonal court, and as such it is tradition for it to be aligned with the other seasonal courts.” I paused then said, “It also shares a direct border with the Spring Court.”

Her body went rigid, and her eyes narrowed slightly, “Has there been any-“

I shook my head and cut her off, “We have no indication that they have made any agreements in regard to you – they don’t even know that you are coming. Their invitation permitted me to bring along two additional persons, but they did not ask for their names.”

“Do you think they will decide to get involved, once they realize I’m one of the people you brought along?” She asked me quietly.

I leaned back again and responded calmly, “Tarquin is young, and… idealistic. I honestly do not believe he would get involved with helping Tamlin get you back. However, you deserve all of the facts and the right to make an informed decision.” I hesitated a moment, then continued, “We have heard rumors about Tamlin and Hybern,” Feyre’s eyes flashed with anger – but she did not try to argue in his defense as she had once done, “nothing concrete, if I had solid information to give you I would. But it would not be a stretch to guess that his dealings with them might have something to do with you – even if Tarquin has no intentions to return you, there could be a trap in place set by Hybern.”

Feyre remained quiet for several minutes, her gaze locked on mine, examining my words for truth. Letting out a breath she said quietly, “If Hybern has a price on my head, then nowhere is safe for me – except here in Velaris.”

I nodded in agreement, “That’s true, the Attor was proof of that.”

She crossed her arms, considering, then said, “I refuse to be a prisoner again, if Hybern wants to come after me, let them.”

I smiled a little, the resolve in her words filling me with such pride and admiration – but Hybern was not the only threat.

“And if Tarquin decides to try to hand you over to Tamlin, to earn a boon from Spring Court?”

She looked away from me, staring out the windows in the dining room, looking out at the street in front of the house.

“It changes absolutely nothing. We need the Book and I appear to be the best way to get it – I made my decision to work with you, and that is what I am going to do.” Her gaze flashed up to meet mine – a challenge, daring me to tell her no, to lock her up.

I _never_ would.

I smiled and bowed my head to her – a sign of respect and admiration, “Well then, let’s see what trouble we can get in at the lovely Summer Court.”

She did not smile, but there was a touch of a smirk on her lips. We continued to dine in quiet for a few minutes, but then she spoke up, “Have you checked in with my sisters, about a response?”

I glanced up at her, “I sent Azriel to check in earlier today, to see if there had been any response. Unfortunately, they still have not replied, so I gave them another letter to send.”

She frowned and nodded, about to return to her meal when I continued, “I am going to have Cassian and Azriel rotate visits to your sisters every couple of days and patrol the area when they do, just as a precaution. If they notice anything wrong, they have orders to get your sisters out – your father as well, if he arrives back at their house.”

She frowned at me then, her eyes narrowing with concern, “Get them out where? If Hybern figures anything out about them and goes after them, nowhere in the mortal realm will be safe.”

She was not going to like the answer – but it was by and far the only real answer. I sighed and gestured, “They will be brought here and ensconced under my protection.”

She let out a bark of laughter that hadn’t an ounce of humor to it, then leaned back, crossing her arms, “You think they will agree to that?”

I shrugged, “Not in the least – but sometimes difficult decisions have to be made. If Hybern goes after your sisters, we have two choices – defend them at their home or take them somewhere defensible. I can’t take a legion of Illyrians to their home to protect them, I can however, bring them here. What would you have me do, Feyre?” 

Feyre stared at me, anger crossing her face, but not at me. She had made the decision to use her family’s estate, I had not forced her, the anger was at herself. That just made the guilt eat at me worse however, if something did happen to her sisters it would ultimately be my fault.

After a long moment of silence, she sighed and reached up, rubbing a temple, her eyes closing. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that, I can’t imagine what Nesta’s reaction would be to Cassian snatching her up and bringing her here – good god, I thought Amren was frightening.”

I let out a low chuckle, “If it’s any consolation I intended for them to stay at the House of Wind, I doubt you could hear her yelling from down here.”

She snorted and looked at me, “If you think that a little mountain will hold her back, you’re sorely mistaken.”

I grinned widely and shrugged, “I could always shield the House – we definitely won’t hear her then.”

A corner of her mouth just barely quirked up, “I’ll hold you to that.”

\- - - ~*~ - - - 

I had intended for a quiet night at home, with Feyre, hell, even with my entire family if they wanted, laughing and dining and enjoying each other.

What I did not intend was for my brothers to basically kidnap me and haul me off to one of the dingier bars in Velaris, for drinking and a few hands of cards. They had sold it as time without the girls and all the dancing, time to catch up with each other as brothers.

It was bullshit, and I knew it – I also knew that the sooner I got it over with, the sooner I could go back home.

So here I was, sitting at a rickety wooden table with a watered-down glass of rum at my elbow, in a dimly lit, sparsely populated bar that smelled faintly of fish, holding the worst hand of cards I’d ever had in my life.

Letting out a sigh, my irritation was finally catching up with me and I glanced at both of them, “Can you two get to the reason why you dragged me here, so I can stop pretending to be interested in this game?”

Cassian looked up at me and smirked, “Why, do you have a bad hand brother?”

I glared at him, then shrugged, folding my cards and tossing them onto the discard pile, “Yep, terrible hand. Now can you get to the point?”

Azriel half grinned and glanced at Cassian, arching a brow. Cassian, rolling his eyes, picked up his glass, drank deep then sat it down.

“I don’t think you should take Feyre,” he finally said.

I crossed my arms and leaned back, glancing at Azriel. “You think the same thing?”

He was quiet for a moment then said, “I… am hesitant about you taking her. If she fell into Hybern’s hands, we would be in a world of trouble.”

The thought of that happening made the rage swirl up through me, but I let out a breath. “I’m not sending her there alone, you do realize that, right? Amren and I aren’t exactly decorations." 

Cassian snorted, “We know that, but you can’t possibly plan for every eventuality. What if she is invited to go off alone with someone? You can’t exactly say no – at least not without showing insult. All it takes is one touch and she could be winnowed to Hybern Rhys, and what then?” His eyes bore into mine and he knew what my answer would be – then I would go after her.

I would risk everything, life and limb and soul to get her back.

Azriel knew it too, and he nodded once in affirmation of that, then gestured, his hands empty now, “Rhys, I know she could make finding the Book easier, but Amren is formidable, as are you, couldn’t you two find it alone?”

Sighing I uncrossed my arms and rested my hands on my legs, leaning forward and looking down at the scuffed floor. Neither of them was wrong, not even remotely, but I had given Feyre the choice, and she had decided.

“Can you, in all honesty, ask me to deny Feyre the same freedom that you both enjoy?” I lifted my head and looked up at them.

They glanced to each other, and it was Cassian who spoke up, “It is your privilege as High Lord to dictate the movements of your court.”

I barked a short, sharp laugh, feeling absolutely no humor, and leaned back, staring at him. “She is not my subject Cassian – I do not dictate anything to her.”

Azriel arched a brow at that, then said, “She is your ambassador-“ 

I cut him off sharply, smirking, “Yes, with all the rights and benefits attributed to the role – and she is still not my subject. She has not sworn an oath of loyalty, she has no family or blood ties to this land, she does not own property or-“

Cassian interrupted me, “Then what you’re saying is that she cannot be trusted.”

 _No_ , I wanted to say, _what I am saying is that she is not my subject, because she is my equal. My…_ I couldn’t say it, not even in my head.

Reaching up I rubbed my face and said, “Cassian, you can trust Feyre with your life, with my life, with all of Prythian’s lives. That doesn’t change the fact that Feyre is subject to no one – she is not under my privilege to command. She decides for herself where she will go and what she will do – and she has decided to go. I agree with her decision furthermore, despite the possible danger.”

I lowered my hand to look at both of them, and smiled slightly, “I know that it worries you both, I know she is young and relatively untrained, but have a little faith in her. Seven months ago, she saved all of Prythian, given the chance, she’ll save the world.” 

They stared at me and I met their gazes without faltering until they both gave me a nod of agreement – they didn’t like it, but they would abide my decision.

Nodding once in return I stood up, pushing my chair back, “As much fun as this was, I’m heading for my bed. Good night, try and keep my lands in one piece while I’m gone.”

I offered them a half smile, which Azriel mirrored and Cassian snorted at. I turned, and instead of walking home, or even flying, I just winnowed there, partially hoping that Feyre might still be up. I was out of luck however; she was in her room and there was no light coming out from under her door. I considered knocking, to see if maybe she was still awake… but decided against it and went to my room, sitting on the end of my bed, my arms resting on my legs as I stared down at the floor.

The rage was still there, simmering underneath the surface at the thought of Hybern taking Feyre, of Tamlin taking her… I knew there was absolutely nothing I would not risk in order to get her back, and that realization frightened me. I had given fifty years of my life, of my body and my soul, just to save my people – and I would sacrifice all of that and so much more to save her.

_Feyre…_

She could conquer worlds, but would I sacrifice this one, just for her?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This endeavor is my first ever fanfiction attempt, and it has been a blast to play with so far.
> 
> I would love to see your comments about what I'm writing!
> 
> So please hit me up with what you think! - Otter

**Author's Note:**

> This endeavor is my first ever fanfiction attempt, and it has been a blast to play with so far.
> 
> I would love to see your comments about what I'm writing!
> 
> So please hit me up with what you think! - Otter


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